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.