This is the third installment of my poem in several parts, “Invisiphilia: An Epic.” For an introduction to the piece, please read Part One.
She is the fastest reader, and
her math is years ahead—
she sings, and plays, and draws, and writes;
lies dreaming on her bed.
But no one sees the little girl
as reader, writer, voice;
instead, the product of a vice,
and victim of a choice.
This is the second installment of my poem in several parts, “Invisiphilia: An Epic.” For an introduction to the piece, please read Part One.
They never told the neighbors that
they cut your milk in half;
drawn colored dots up on the wall—
your hunger on a graph.
And when you screamed your emptiness
they shrugged and found the scale—
nope, still too heavy; so they placed
you in your crib to wail.
Hi folks. Many of you know I’m a fiction writer and poet, but I haven’t posted much of either on this blog. However, I’ve been picking away at poem in several parts called “Invisiphilia: An Epic.” After sitting on the first few parts for a long time, I decided there’s no better way to get this moving than post one or two parts a week. They’re reasonably short, and some are shorter than others.
So here we go.
A happy day, three weeks after
the night you were conceived.
But Doctor wasn’t too impressed
with what your Mom achieved.
“You shouldn’t gain an ounce,” he said.
“Perhaps, should lose a few!”
All told in order to prevent
the birth of a fat you.
