Susan Daniels Poetry

****This is an old, old poem I am revising, as I believe it still has relevance today.  This does have strong language in it (I use a word in here I have never said–ever, and I don’t read this one in public for the same reason), so if you are squeamish about really nasty words, pass this one over.

I am painting over
words on a brick wall.
Old hate sprayed over cortical ridges
leaches through the best whitewashing;

You can hear the old words
in the pause before the new names
are used:

He says
African American/means (you fill in the blank)
says challenged/means cripple
mouths woman
who is girl, chick, broad,
cunt on the half-shell
in the subtext.

Naming is dangerous:
men whose signs say
GOD IS LOVE
wait outside the Y
where Betty Friedan speaks,
throw dyke, witch, murderer stones
at my friend & I
who dare move through them
unescorted.

Should I have said something,
should I have shouted back more hate,
or should I have kissed her?

No.  I can only
paint over and over
this ugliness.

But I am one woman,
and my arms
grow heavy.