Give Me Liberty

This is the first poem in my new book, Bluebell: The Apocalypse Diary. www.lulu.com/jenlighty

Give Me Liberty

It began on a Saturday night
when I took what I wanted.
I was a drunk, so I had no problem
saying hi, you wanna come home with me?
I kept meaning to be a vegetarian,
but the food at the bar was free.
Barbecue ribs and buffalo chicken wings,
licking the preservatives off my fingers
by instinct. I've heard pigs will eat anything
that lies on the ground showing no sign of life.
It wasn't his fault.
I was just bored with everything.
I pushed him off and faced the wall.
It was finally ready to speak.
Yo, ho, ho, the wall laughed at me.
You brandish your drink like a buccaneer
from the seventeenth century,
when you've really been waiting
for the highwayman to sweep you off your feet.
You don't care where you are going
as long as it's at a gallop.
You think you are Cathy
sobbing on the moors of Wuthering Heights.
My sister Emily loved the moors.
Flowers brighter than the rose
Bloomed in the blackest heath for her;
out of a sullen hollow in the livid hillside
her mind could make an Eden.
She found in the bleak solitude many and dear delights;
and not the least and best loved was--liberty.
I have wandered the moors of this island,
stripped bare and bleeding--
(really I was drunk and lost in the bushes
on my way home from a late night.)
How did I end up an outlaw,
hand cocked on hip,
brandishing a cutlass
at all who dared to look at me?
What did I seek in the shadows,
drawing violence toward me as if
there were no limits to what I could take?
For years I hid behind a can of beer,
wearing a coat of smoke I refused to shed,
even when it was hot enough
to melt the ice cubes
in my Stoli raz & cranberry.
I laughed too loud.
I thought my teeth flashed brazenly.
In the mirror that's behind every bar
the truth careened toward me.
The truth tied me to the stake.
When I reached the calm center
at the heart of every blaze,
I cut my own throat,
so I could finally speak.