

Another Strong WomanAnother Strong WomanAnother Strong Woman
Do we really need another strong-woman poem, even if it is well-written? —Poet from the 2004 Hollywood Poetry Slam Team
Mom’s hunched over the dining room table, clipping coupons from shiny newspaper inserts. She stops to fix dinner—what’s left in the fridge.
My sister’s science teacher told her she’s good with words because girls are. She’s flunking English—spends all her time building a telescope.
My boss at Johnny Rocket’s told me I should wear makeup more since, “You look so pretty, when you make an effort.” He sho


Plastic BoothCoffee laden with half and half expands her stomach.Plastic Booth
She burps bile, swallows, sucks cloudy, chlorine-infused water.
Coffee and worry have eaten a hole in her stomach; it would hurt him to know.
She cannot look at his gray eyes, gazing in earnest.
She watches an oily skin form on the coffee’s surface.
The mug is speckled diner beige, nondescript porcelain, practically indestructible.
She is breaking.
Teeth clenched, she inhales a lump that sticks in her throat like a dry biscuit. &n
And if you have any suggestions--for anything--just note the club and we'll see what we can do.
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