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  • Writer's pictureaeraustol

Don't Get Me Started

Don't get me started









chill out.

Don’t get me started about

those who

say chill out,

when someone is raped

every day, somewhere.

When corals are dead or dying.

Ecosystems in peril.

People isolated.

In the windowless office,

inside homes on every street -

the ones with trash

stuck in the stalks of dirt-caked grass.

The ones with towels for curtains.

The ones with swimming pools.

The ones with granite countertops.

Don’t get me started

how my love bit

off pieces of apple –

her movements tender and animal-like,

on the Blue Ridge Parkway

and fed them to me.

One by one

because of a bad flare-up of TMJ,

but not bad enough if you know what I mean.

Don’t get me started.

How Jane Austen was being ironic

when her female characters

took turns about the room

to be gazed upon.

And now?

Teenage girls

turning about the room

on screens

in classrooms

In the grocery store

With their mothers,

their fathers,

a glance too long

up and down

like property

like the meat behind

the glass.

Wrapped and sold.

Don’t get me started

about how restaurants still

use single-serve plastics.

How I ordered a Dr. Pepper

for my son

from a drive-thru and forgot

to ask them to skip the straw and lid.

How regret squeezed

my stomach like a clamp

for days.

How our bodies tell us the truth.

When I told you

On Friday night in bed

about the Dr. Pepper, the straw.

You held me and said,

“Shh. It’s going to be ok.”

Like the whisper of earth.

Your hair smelled of clementines.

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1 Comment

Kelli Miller
Kelli Miller
May 02, 2023


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