Stalagmites
I refuse to cease writing these words
though all my bones have been broken
splintered and shattered
like puzzle pieces
scattered on a tabletop
their pointy ends piercing
every muscle each time I move
even an iota
I persist as I always do
despite the pain
perhaps because of it
to prove a point
taping popsicle sticks to my fingers
so they stay straight as I type
“Obstinate, stubborn”
my mother used to say
when I dared to disagree
or stand up for myself
Her insults like a high pitched
whistle blown inches from my ear
echoing in my malleable young mind
a cavern creating stalagmites
layer upon layer
with the constant drip-drip of disdain
sharp and spiky that would impale me
over the years yet to come
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