OLD ACQUAINTANCE (1943) – Kenneth Pobo

I grew up wanting to be 
Bette Davis, shaking the tar 
out of boys who fenced me in 
with insult, sexual insult.  
I pictured myself shaking them, 
their bodies falling through 
space, nothing to stop them.  
I came up with insults 
to hurl back, packing language 
into an iceball aimed at their heads,
said nothing.  Oh, 
how I could tell them off now.  
In my sixties.  Some are dead.  
Most probably don’t remember me.