Tiaras

and prom

By Harper Lewis Published 6 months ago • Updated 6 months ago • 1 min read

Selfie in one of my tiaras

I was really good

at being a teenager.

I can still do it, be crazy

in love, maybe with myself,

maybe with my youth,

less visible than last century,

but still dancing inside me,

money burning flags,

I’ve given up babysitting

the feelings of adult children,

alcoholics, perpetual victims

who think they can dump shame on me,

like porcine blood on the prom queen,

labeled with a satin sash.

I don’t need a fucking tiara from you.

I have my own.

Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.

Intertextuality is my passion.

Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.

My words are mine, not a robot’s.

MA English literature, CofC

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