And here ends my National Poetry Month poem-a-day exercise. I did it—yeah! And yeah, too, for the month being over. Having to produce something every day has been amazing, and exhausting. I have a paper to finish now, so need the time I’d spend doing this. Last year I started poem a day and got, I think, to day three. This year I finished, and some of them are even really good. I’m going to keep pushing myself to write some every day, but if every once in a while I need to sleep or, goddess forbid, go see a movie, I’ll give myself a day off. And for all of you’ve I’ve not seen or called cause I’ve been writing—maybe in June, before I go back to Poetry Camp?

_____________________________________

Another Poem about Privilege
SB 170—a proud heritage of hate

If you own the woman you love
as chattel
and you do not set her free,

If you bring her nightly to your bed,
but in the morning
she rises to empty the mansion’s chamberpots,

If she is the half-sister of your wife
and you still fuck her
and you still are considered a model citizen,

If you scream human rights
in elegant prose
but protect your right to own humans,

If you can live this way
for years
and not kill yourself
or your children, the ones you own
on and off the record,
or blow up the capitol
or set fire to the precious parchment
of your hypocrisy,

then you are, absolutely guaranteed,
no doubt about it, history only continues
to prove that this is true,

white—a dangerous social disorder
we hope to eliminate
before the turn
of another bloody century.