Litkicks Message Board Archive

I know I'm up for grabs

Posted to Poetry

I've been tucked
between the blue lined white sheets of a lecture note-book
across butcher's paper in bright crayon
into a paper serviette (& pushed over my doorstep at dawn)
in chubby slick lipstick across the mirror of an pub toilet
through a microphone across the heads of a Saturday night crowd

But you typed me in with plastic neutrality
Processed me like so much meat
And sent me off
While I was here sleeping, playing, thinking of everything else
But you

You played pimp and I was unaware
of being in your head
your hands
your restless nighttime activities.

We've never spoken but
There I found a version of myself in Melbourne
On the lowest shelf of a bookshop in Fitzroy
With your name stamped officiously underneath
Like a trademark on the instep of a Kewpie doll

I didn't let my boyfriend see I was up for sale.

Recently my friends have called me wanting to know of you
And me
When I had no idea there was a 'we' to talk of.

And now
While I haven't seen you since
I know I'm up for grabs
When ordinary girls turn into ventriloquists
And anyone can be turned into somebody else's poem.