Emily Alexandra Gordon
Bomber
I was tired of trying to fit in.
And I was tired of traveling alone.
I overtipped. I cast my vote.
I was as tolerant as anyone.
Sure, I had things to say,
people to say them to,
but nothing was changing. It got worse
slowly, but one day the ground
was redder than I remembered.
What I can do is burst,
leave shavings of myself
like whittled wood
in the hands of the men who act
without me in mind.
I believe in what comes afterward,
but I keep thinking of the time
just before, when everything I was going to be
will rush forward like the cyclists
in the Tour de France,
standing on their pedals.
Emily Alexandra Gordon’s poems have appeared in Painted Bride Quarterly, Indie Soleil, HIV Here and Now, and the Toronto Globe & Mail. She lives in Brooklyn.