Habits are Subjective When Everything is Bad
I once was a nailbiter, but not today
mom’s nails trimmed close for hands
melding daily with wet clay I sit
watching Mtv on her bed in the living
room — she sacrifices her privacy for
mine — and gnawing my cuticles with
crooked teeth until a splash of blood
runs out she scolds me that’s a disgusting
habit but i pretend not to hear sing my
warbly harmonies to Cyndi Lauper or
Roxette the ethereal fantasy dolls of life
removed from our racist southern town
bigoted Baptists who bring pamphlets
from church to try to get me to come to
service ever since Mrs. Blalock made us
tell the social studies class where we went
to church and i had to confess i don’t go
turning eggplant with shame and knowing
peer backlash will be further banishment
from sleepovers and birthdays where all
the girls will paint their nails and giggle
