“Sit quietly,
we’ll take care of things.
Your hands are too weak.
Don’t sing,
your voice is too full of pain.
It’s just not a lovely thing.
That pretty girl across the street,
she’s the one who can sing,
not you. And don’t eat so much.
It’ll only make you uglier.
I tell you these things
for your own good.
You’re too stupid to know better.
So simple, you still think
that beauty is a flower.
You’re a lot to look after,
the way you walk in the woods
all day. Why can’t you make friends?
Stop staring at the sky.
God’s not gonna bother with
a useless girl like you.
Now tie your shoe.
You’re so clumsy,
I don’t want you to fall and
hurt yourself. Sometimes,
I swear you’re more trouble
then you’re worth. Just sit there
and try not to break anything
while I’m out.”
She just sat there, quietly, choking
on a song and a scream
forgetting the difference in-between.
Isabel Sylvan lives and writes along the Raritan Bay. Her poetry has appeared in numerous publications over the past twenty years. She is currently the editor of Poetry Breakfast, an online poetry journal. In 2012 she began producing an art collection featuring a mix of movie stills and her poetry. By merging images from stock footage with her poems, she has created a visually pleasing blend of poetry and photography. Her first widely published collection of poems, Songs In A Broken Minor Key is forthcoming and two additional collections are in the works. For additional information visit http://www.isabelsylvan.wix.com/poetry.
