Run

ok, almost failed my goal at day 4, but this poem is only late because I was out in Norwich slamming with SUNY Oneonta and peeps. 4th place, hell yeah! I read this piece in our feature spot, kinda wish it had been scored, but one of the judges (Scott) thought it was a little too violent. Really, though, its about the opposite. Here it is:

Run

punch the class president when he
jumps on your back from behind, slam
his face against a steel fence, walk away
feeling nothing, don't look back.
you are too small to take their shit, so
accentuate your inches by raising your fists-
when they call you a midget make them pay.
make them run.

chase colin through the trees even if
it means getting kicked out of summer camp,
make your classmates restrain you
when robert has had enough.
leave your fingerprints on stanley's neck
so he takes notice, learns to use knives,
years later he will apologize anyway.
when asked for your wallet, give them hell,
hurl them through the doors the bus driver
has opened for you. when their friends find you,
run.

they will tell stories about you later,
lie to their friends, tell them you threw
a sandwich at the dean when he was being
disrespectful, say you were an arsonist, set fire
to a desk and threatened to blow up the building.
this is to be expected,
because you are building a legend
from the bodies of bullies and street punks,
hoping they will learn not to fuck with you.
hoping they will learn to run.

you want to pretend you are a pacifist,
refuse to make a list of your grievances
to anyone but god, because he is
probably not listening. black eyes and
broken glasses are not badges of pride,
you only did what you had to to survive,
to be taken seriously, to not
have to fight anymore. because
something inside you is never at rest
it is a dog at your heels and
a wolf in your chest and
he is howling
and you can't trust him

years later, you will be able to admit
to having anger issues. you will feel
small instead of strong, knowing
the perfect placement of a palm
that can shatter eye sockets.
you will feel sorry, wishing
for them to call you midget
rather than madman.
but you did what you had to
you finished the fight, and now
you are going to run like hell.