BEING THE BOY
The mailman parks his mailman truck to teach a rough patience.
People with mail-waiting time have a lost world luxury.
The fed cat massages the window with her sharp claws. She is proud
of herself. Her slaughterhouse simulation. Her opulent style
of rolling in the sun. Also, resurrection. On my long list of ghosts
to invite to a tea party, Kiki de Montparnasse graces the top ten.
It is possible my cat is a reincarnation of Kiki de Montparnasse.
I have entertained the idea of us sipping gin. In this idea,
we go shopping and buy cookies. We wear silk robes and wave
from balconies far above the sidewalk. We wear satin slippers
with heels. When we get giddy, our necklaces fall into our drinks.
Our mouths smudge to match the peonies in the garden below us.
You are invited to this idea too. There are rules though.
For instance, hold the tentacle-shaped teacup handle in a fancy way.
There are no swans allowed. No feathers or sand.
You don’t always have to be the boy. Just today. And another thing.
Don’t ask me to make a fist when I am not angry. This is not ladylike
behavior. Much like it isn’t what you say or how you say it, so much
as I am the kind of girl who will be weather if you ask nicely.
Gina Keicher is an Associate Editor for Black Lawrence Press. She received her MFA in Creative Writing from Syracuse University. She lives in Ithaca, New York with her husband, their cat, and their dog. Her first full-length poetry collection Wilderness Champion is forthcoming from Gold Wake Press.