Food for Thought

Two poems by my lovely sister. Enjoy...

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Untitled (to a woman i drove home one night in Madison)

missed the bus.
out of time. out of money. out her own car.
out her own bed. out of just plain luck she said.
but then i knew she didn't mean luck.

i. twenty year old college student. safe with an easy job.
own apartment. a bunch of food that sits and sits on my
kitchen shelf. rarely missing. or out.

you. woman. two kids. night shift. tired hands.
aching back. one hell of a laugh.

not luck we understood. intentional.
buses that don't slow down or wait.
because of men above who don't slow down
or wait. a whole mess of them that think
they know what this woman needs.

because of me. white. middle class. pursuing a
college degree that won't mean a thing
if i don't see that i'm white. middle class. and privileged.

"honey" she said "the government doesn't know shit
about us."

i have to admit. i didn't either.

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Evening Assassin

This evening assassin on soft soled pink fluffy slippers. slips slipping
into something
a little more comfortable. a silhouette behind closed lip blinds.
it will be murder plain and simple. damn the late hour and the worn
armrest of the chair.
she whistled. made it movie style all casual-like.
layered it on thick since two days ago and a stroll
with a steel tipped umbrella that folded out then in like a cramp.
that is when she knew.
they were out to get her. they like hats slouched over bloodshot eyes.
they like backfires of idling engines. they too invisible
to be noticed.

this night. under her tongue nothing but mint and church bells. holy
repetition.

what matters now is not how you aim
she thought. what matters now is
what weapon you choose.

___________
©2004 Lesley Spisak

**I will try to actually WRITE some sorta blog tomorrow instead of being lazy... I am just busy with an article I'm writing so I'm having problems focusing my energy on this blog...

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