My Hipster
by Barbara Rockman
wants her marrow to shine.
Once, scab-kneed and miraculous,
she
flew her Schwinn downhill, looping
potholes––
barrel racer of the cul-de-sac.
Optimism
in neon leggings. Head stand and
cartwheel,
witch and pirate. Till the bill of
goods arrived.
She ripped its wrapping.
Then and there her insteps snapped,
hips slimmed to no womanly good.
She stilettos the runway,
breastless,
famished. My urban blood and bone
is out till dawn, done up and done in
by two boys who compare her: fuck
you.
She writes a poem on the train,
Desire is a vintage gown cut on the
bias.
Every flaw riots a girl’s good
nature,
twists a waif’s waist till it’s
knotted laundry
dragged down the alley of ice she
slips on.
She is that beautiful,
thread of snivel coating her lips,
all her filthy stuff rumpling her
like storm.
She counts stars, flat on her back
in the wish-I-might.
* * * * *
"My
Hipster" was first published in WomenArtsQuarterly and is now in Barbara
Rockman's collection to cleave.
Barbara Rockman is
the author of Sting and Nest, winner of the New Mexico-Arizona Book Award,
and to cleave (University of New Mexico Press, 2019). She teaches writing
at Santa Fe Community College and at Esperanza Shelter for Battered Families. Raised
in western Massachusetts, she now lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Beautifully despairing
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