Oughta Know

A POEM BY KATHARINE PEDDIE

He says you’re confused I think he means your anger isn’t

ideological in each moment he seems clear he

wants justice

I

like our confusion my nostalgia your anger I feel it on the street where you’re flicking your cigarette/handing out high fives.

I remind him of mess. of money

the bills we gotta pay

there’s something about me

come the revolution he wants me

against the wall

I have my reasons for being there

can’t seem to say sex without violence

 

he wants something

rational I

blame the Enlightenment it seems

appropriate

 

I wanna make

a strangled sound.

 

Remember when you were god?

 

The song is in your pocket a poem a heart but I don’t know

what your hand’s doing now

 

I call you up I call you

out I stress you out I’m

 

petrified of silence

 

hurry up

 

what’ll it be now

the 10,000 spoons                or the knife?

 

Artwork © Olga Alexander

Malise RosbechComment