By: Adele Slaughter
I told my friend,
Your God is a miser,
stingy with a black heart,
wrinkled like a raisin
no, even a dried fruit is too plump.
His chest is hard coal.
It’s the way we were raised—
pulled up from our boot straps
spanked, shoved against a wall.
I get it …I get it.
It’s why I can take so much,
but my patience has snapped,
a belt cracking on my back.
I can take it, but don’t want to.
No one really believes we were set
on this world only to be told
you’re not worthy,
and yet this is what we tell our selves
inside our chests,
small beats
hardening.
Adele Slaughter is a poet living in Los Angeles. Her short film, Jealousy, (2014) is based on her novel of the same name was seen in several film festivals. She received her M.F.A. in poetry from Columbia University. Slaughter’s first book of poems, What The Body Remembers was published by Story Line Press in 1994 and is being reprinted by Red Hen Press in 2020. Her poems have appeared in Tupelo Press 30 in 30 Project and other small magazines. She is seeking a publisher for a new book of poetry titled, 100 Days, a blessing, a curse. Currently, she is writing a book of non-fiction.