I Am Not Your Puppet: A Poem

I am not your puppet, and you can’t pull my strings.

I don’t know what to say to make you understand these things.

I can make decisions, I have feelings, just like you,

My opinions count for things, I’m telling you, they do.

So next time when you ask me if I’ve done what I’ve been told,

I’ll put my fist into the sky, I’ll shout out, strong and bold,

“You have no power over me. I work for my own will,”

And, if after all of that, you disregard me still,

I’ll simply walk away from you. I will leave you lonely.

I am not you puppet, and I work for myself only.


Free as a Bird: A Poem

We gave you wings so you’d be free as a bird,

Now fly far from here, fly strong;

We gave you a voice so you might speak your mind,

Now sing to the sky, sing long.

We gave you a heart so you’d explode with your love,

They filled it with lead, sing long;

We gave you a life so they’d take it away,

Free as a bird now, fly strong.

I Felt the Earthquake: A Poem

At first I thought,

“Sweet. I have a P.E. class filled with attractive boys.”

Then I thought,

“Oh no.

I have a P.E. class

filled with attractive boys.”

I know that their every snicker

will be about me now,

their every chortle and guffaw;

I know that when they walk behind me

their whispered voices

will speak only of the sweat

beaded on my face, dripping down my back,

and the huge, dark prints

my ass leaves on the rubber flooring;

I know that they will make cracks

about the girth of my hips

and the span of my waistline

and the way my cheeks are splotched red

after a run;

I know that when the attractive boys from my P.E. class

pass me in the halls,

they think,

“Oh look,

it’s that funny looking girl from my gym;”

and I know all this because

in third grade they chanted at me,

“Run, Mikki, run,”

as I was the last to finish the mile;

because in fourth grade

they followed me and a friend around at indoor recess

with a sign that read,

“You’re fat;”

because in fifth grade

they tripped me in the hall

and they snickered and chortled and guffawed,

“I felt the earthquake.”

Every time I see them

I’m just that fat little girl all over again.

I’m still huffing and panting my way to the finish line

with that condescending look in my gym teacher’s eyes,

the athletic boys lined up against the bricks

waiting for me to finish

so they can go back inside.

It was my lungs that burned then

but it’s my head

that burns now;

it burns with their laughs and their eyes

even though they probably don’t notice me at all;

it burns when I see

my big, sweaty ass print on the floor,

and when I lose my oxygen

in the stride for a ten-minute mile;

it burns especially hot

seeing those elementary school faces

in the attractive boys

that fill my P.E. class,

reminding me of the fat little girl

I still am,

the one who lives trapped within me.




Related poem: ashamed

Fight or Flight: A Poem

Author’s note: I have no recollection of writing this, so analyzing this is just as much of a challenge for me as it for you, my readers. Comment with your thoughts.


And you clasp your ears

so unfiltered sound drives into them

and you drag your feet across the linoleum.

And you drop your jaw

so that many things can waterfall from it.

And the pulse is so whole now,

so loose, and so primed,

and oil readies your joints.

The Desperation: A Poem

Desperation hangs

from the dangling strings of jokes

like spit from her lips.

Every raspy retelling,

well-known to the ears of her companions,

struggles to stand for itself,

grabbing at a hint of a chuckle for stability.

The desperation forces her tongue.

Her jaw moves in a way even she disapproves of.

Blinking hard,

she allows another something surge upwards

from the deep pits of loneliness in her stomach.

It is an offering.

It is rejected.

Desperation turns the cycle again,

and again,

and again.

This is no way to make friends.

Softer than the Rain: A Poem

mikki window edit

cool me

hush me

blanket the sky, every inch, the wind is your breath


i remember your cheek and my abdomen

your eyes, closed and soft

blonde hair, delicate lips


did you ever notice

how the clouds grow heavy and low

before they drop the rain?


you brushed my plush ribbed sides

with gentle, gentle fingers

the water tickled the window, a quiet rapping


you held me with your eylashes

caressed my collarbone

with your sleeping hush


did you ever notice

how it quilted the sky gray?

did it keep you going?


every note i took

was pressed into the chilly glass

we made a fossil record


infinite, boundless


gentle, hoping


slow, careful, cautious

reaching, studious

exploring, exploding