March 11, 2012

Poem: Cruelty, by Lucille Clifton

Lucille Clifton

cruelty. don’t talk to me about cruelty
or what i am capable of.

when i wanted the roaches dead i wanted them dead
and i killed them. i took a broom to their country

and smashed and sliced without warning
without stopping and i smiled all the time i was doing it.

it was a holocaust of roaches, bodies,
parts of bodies, red all over the ground.

i didn’t ask their names.
they had no names worth knowing.

now i watch myself whenever i enter a room.
i never know what i might do

This was a good weekend. I didn't get much work done, but I went to the library, we watched the UC Men's Octet (SO GOOD. SO, SO GOOD.), I shopped for groceries and am planning out my meals for the next week because I need to save up for splurging on Lauduree in New York. At the same time, this waiting- if there's one big thing that recruiting has taught me, it's how to wait without doing something immeasurably awful and keenly terrible. It's how to have faith and hang on, and not let the waves of  bitterness and frustration wash away everything that you hold dear and makes you who you are.

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