Tonight's Poet Corner: Privilege
Privilege by Belinda Roddie We were born to drink milk until we lactated success, told to eat bread and shit gold and sell it at the market. We spent years counting change and sorting our savings, just to be sure we had two coins to put on our eyes at the end so we could ride a boat to the beginning of our second existence. The old men wanted us to invent new legs for them so they could walk again, sew new silver tongues into their mouths so they could talk again, stuff them into tweed suits and cart them around the city so they could spew their gospel for every one of their disheveled disciples to hear. Those who were asked to listen shook their cans harder, so you could hear the loud metal chorus of monetary disdain. We jumped into our minivans and wheeled our wishes to coffee shops, scoffing at those who acted like they were loftier than we were, but we still dipped our noses in honey to mask the odor of desperation whenever a black toothed stranger