poetry: stubborn

They think me boneless,
I yield so easy.
They think me skinless:
I talk so white.
They think me tender,
home-grown prey.
They think me chicken:
They could be right.

They think me token,
just right for gaming.
They think me ticket,
not bad for ride.
They think me house,
a rigged roulette.
They think me prize:
They could be right.

They think me numb,
I smile so pretty.
They think me fraud,
a wolf, sheep-dyed.
They think me cursed,
I can’t keep nothin.
They think me lost:
They could be right.

I meet them open,
heart full of honest.
I look so careful,
I see their light.
I make more room,
hold space for them.


They think me stubborn.
In this, they’re right.