Someone challenged me
to write about thirteen
unlucky thirteen
(me with my list of phobias
trailing behind me)

and once more
for the third time today
I approach the page
with some trepidation
how to write about
these superfluous sentences
too long for the haiku master
master of twitter-er that told
me my haiku were too long

Am I insecure? or just
human and female
and facing a weekend of PMS
and an unsatisfied husband
but I did try
he said
I did try
I heard him say, yes
dear, you did try. Is there
more beer in the fridge
while I swallow my soda a
straw-full at a time
to stay awake

Thirteen times I submitted
my poems to a publisher
but never submitted to a man
always insisting on the top–
the top is my place–
My place
and he knows that I belong there

but the girl that belongs there
isn’t afraid of
public masturbation
or Friday
the thirteenth–
she is not afraid of anything



8 thoughts on “Thirteen

  1. I’d say you have taken up the challenge exceedingly well. You are a fearless spirit, impassive to mundane iterations of numbers.

    PS: Till my father passed away on a Friday the 13th, I didn’t think much of that figure.


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