April 14, 2014

In Your Blind Spot

By Tony Brown

War me,
rape me,
kill me,
dick me around, 
drop me from a list,
dress up and
stomp a dance
against me;

ignore me
until I don’t speak,
I won’t care,
I don’t care
about speaking
to you — 
why would I
want to?  

In your Garden, 
I’m still the Tree
growing in your blind spot,
the Tree Of Knowledge
About You
That You
Don’t Have,
and that
right there

is a Way
of surviving.

About Tony Brown

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A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown
This entry was posted on Monday, April 14th, 2014 at 12:27 pm and tagged with , , , and posted in poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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