cl.bledsoe

Thieves

1

Morning comes with a thud of light
slapping
the ground awake
and it’s out into the back yard
to piss on the neighbors’ hydrangeas

This is not an act of war
there are men: little men in my mirror
I can hear them giggle
in the bathroom mirror
mornings
when I shake

And I hear conversations
late at night
I had weeks ago
repeated in German
and I don’t even know German

2

When I sit in my kitchen
sip hot tea to loosen
the life in me get it flowing
like a breeze
I see crows eating my cucumbers
eating my baby tomato plants
I planted before I knew
nothing grew here

Then at the bus stop
they’re up there smirking
on the power lines
on the tree branches
but they’re clever they are not men
that’s why I can see them
I’ve never seen a man here

3

On the bus you’ve seen them hiding
on the walls same with the trains
they hide on the walls call themselves doctors
call themselves Hamburger Mc. King
call themselves Technical Institutes
They’re stealing from me
trying
stealing from you too

trying to scream your mind away
They know
you’d expect them to come
through your ears
that’s why they go
through your eyes

Bio: CL Bledsoe has work in over 150 journals including Margie, Nimrod, Clackamas and previously in Mannequin Envy. His first collection, Anthem, is forthcoming later this year, He's an editor for Ghoti Magazine

Previously published at Mannequin Envy

Spring 2006

Lora's Tragedy

Teacher's words brushed our cheeks like a fly.
One thing we learned from that old cow –
watch out or you'll end up like her.

Sit in the back where no one looks;
keep your head down but not too low.
You don't want to start a trend.

Waiting, was how I spent all the mornings
I should have lived, waiting for bells,
waiting for time to start like a stalled truck at an intersection.

All around me, other girls danced through the days
like ballerinas in a music box, somewhere up there, twirling.
They didn't realize that a man puts you on a pedestal

so he can look up your skirt,
Leaves you waiting for him to bend his knee
down where he keeps you, somewhere between the floor and the bed.

They never had clothes that made their butts look like pudding
trying to plop out over their shoes,
which were even worse. Their hair was a friend to them.

The boys kept their eyes low, and those girls walked on their stares,
tracked them on the floor like dirt,
so their feet were always just a little off the ground.

That's what made them pretty. Any fool could see that right off.

In the halls, I was an elephant no one talked about.
Their smiles were not for me, their teeth that shined
like silverware in a drawer, waiting to tarnish.

That's me, except I never got to shine. Tucked myself away
with the soup spoons and olive forks.

Got myself a job flipping burgers weekends and after school
so I could afford my own movie tickets, meals out,
so at least the phone rings.

They say the way to a man's heart is his stomach.
All I see of them are impatient hands reaching
so they can get back to their cubicles
and hate the clock until it moves.

CL Bledsoe

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