Throwing: is how we measure distances,
in stones – weaker throwers needing more
stones, due to lack of training, invisible
defects of the muscle or character, because
their mothers were too good to them.
Running: it is the difference between here
and where we ought to be, defined
as the place where we are not. Sitting
is of women. And talk. We run away
from the terrible threat of connection.
Pushing: (and its kissing cousin, shoving)
is how we ascertain who gets to live
versus who gets redundancy. Push in
the hand, push in the bush, the pushes
on the bus go round and round.
Shouting: replaces pushing in polite
society. Best used minimalist – with time,
a good glare should suffice to set the weak
into a convenient state of panic. We did not
say that it was not ugly. All power is.
Thus equipped, we throw ourselves into
forces, armed robberies, daylight abuse
of a power we believe we deserve - it is
not that easy to walk into a room having
prepared nothing, while others have.
Lorelei Bacht (she/they) is currently running out of ways to define herself. Keywords include: (former) lobbyist, mother (of two), (recreational) entomologist, (terrible) gardener, (adept) fishkeeper. Her recent work has appeared and/or are forthcoming in OpenDoor Poetry, Litehouse, Visitant, Quail Bell, The Wondrous Real, Odd, Abridged, Slouching Beast Journal and The Riverbed Review. She is also on Instagram: @lorelei.bacht.writer