Poetry

No drawing board

Sometimes I feel like the fish

from Fantasia sashaying in all mysteriously

and then others I feel

like the mop Mickey hacks apart

trying to clear up his mess

 

Then my reflection

without bursting into song

tells me I am me

and I don’t have to be mysterious and distant

or used until I’m not wanted

 

I can stand on proud

muscular legs

and answer when I want to answer

talk if I wish to talk

and be silent if I don’t

without apology