She Said

I’m tired of writing
memorials on the skin of my arms
tired of carving sweet names with the tip of my knife
I’m tired of countries that die while the Dow soars

I’m tired of racists on TV
fat ones with red faces twisted into sneers
pretty ones who like being hungry
blaming the poor
for being poor
for eating the wrong foods
for spending too much on the right foods
for speaking too fast or too slow
for using the wrong words
for saying the right words too loud
for wanting to vote
for wanting their kids not to be sick

tired of the sound of my own breath
struggling up three flights of stairs
I’m so tired of the endless cold
black-edged snow crusting my street
I’m tired of funerals and churches
and cemeteries out in the New Jersey sticks
and stale food and organs and shuffling
around with sad faces and nothing to say


Steve Klepetar’s work has received several nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His latest collections include Speaking to the Field Mice (Sweatshoppe Publications), Blue Season (with Joseph Lisowski, mgv2>publishing), My Son Writes a Report on the Warsaw Ghetto (Flutter Press), and Return of the Bride of Frankenstein (Kind of a Hurricane Press).

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