I Am the Lightning, Laughing
Hybrid prose poem: the day I let myself be bad
I was 10 years old:
all lanky limbs akimbo & dishevelled hair in disarray — I saw the face of God — an irate authority who spanked me when I couldn’t stop laughing too loudly
Very well, if you insist on bringing down the hammer, I’ll play delinquent Loki to your despotic Thor: make mischief / overthrow the capricious czar / scandalously steal the lightning & catch it in a Leyden Jar
already my impish infant howling an atmospheric disturbance — a clamorous cackle tumbling from my misbehaving mouth—
but genuine & jolly giggles should never be a punishable offence
“You are too much”
- too loud
- too talkative
- too ‘bossy’
- too strong
(((((((( too happy ))))))))
this straightjacket sermon warbled perpetually from pulpits & pews / echoed endlessly under gilded domes / whispered like lullabies into sleep-muffled ears
“You are too much”
this refrain imprinted on we garrulous & grinning girls, we exasperating rascals busy fizzing with untapped capacity — jealous of…
