Rabble without Facts

there’s something

about

complete

condemnation

that makes my back bristle…

that makes my shoulders square

that makes my chin lift, and

wakes the sleeping giant

of pride

–rudely.

I am not the

scarlet woman

you cast me,

I am not

grist for your mill,

I am not

absolute bad, and

your jacket

does not

fit me

–because after all–

it’s your jacket.