Academic journal article Field

Enough

Academic journal article Field

Enough

Article excerpt

I got here through no talent of my own.

I did not birth myself, or even will myself

into being. One day I was a cluster of cells,

one day I was a heart, one day I was

a human in the world. Now what? Look

at the luck I was given, born into a place

with a hot yellow sun. Born with two

nimble hands, a strong enough voice.

If I'm not shouting down cruelty or at least

singing all the time, what am I doing?

If I'm not building a table or holding a child

or slicing tomatoes warm from the garden

I've weeded myself, what am I doing?

I bought these electric blue flats. Suede.

I did it because it made me feel a little

happy, that small dopamine hit that comes

from picturing yourself looking like someone

someone wants to look at. But how absurd

is that? How flimsy? I've never learned to change

a tire. …

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