Thursday thriced. We are smack-dab in the centre of this dreary, daring month. Last night, I got a visit…I hope you get a visit too!
The Part That Says I’m Effing Incredible
She comes at me ecstatic (oh yes, she’s a woman:
big-boned, mountain-backed, top lip thin and lightly mustached)
screaming curses, a chorus of accolades swarmed with expletive
because: I did it! I slayed this day! I finished the work! I drove
in that weather! I drank all that water! I ate healthy food! Do you
understand how effing incredible I AM? (oh yes, she boots
all the naysayers out of her way, her legs Grecian columns of hand-
carved white-stone). She does not apologize. She does not change
her tone. She is always yelling, celebrating me.
She spoons me in bed so I can fall asleep with thoughts of my
awesomeness metal-music-ing my marvelous mind. Sleep skips
over me, joyful. I have no trouble dreaming. This part…this part
that exclaims I am effing incredible…do you know her?
For those of you heavy with poems, head on over to Phog Heads for Toast Open Mic!
Will I be there? This is a very good question. I’m still in my jammies and I have to poop. Have to put in a long day at the new job, and there are pages and pages of editing work…um, I have no idea if I’ll go! This gal can’t make decisions this early in the day! It’s still dark out, for goodness sake! And the snow! The glorious snow! Gotta dig out the car…safe driving every one!
VANESSA SHIELDS 