A brag poem, written for Poetry Boot Camp.
I’m not supposed to be here.I’m only 15 and an average student.Broken HomeMissing FatherAlcoholic motherWorking to pay my way.Kids like medon’t get scholarships over seas.Until now.I’m in the middle of nowhere,Grimslov College in Sweden.Which is somewhere reallyWhen I think about it.A holding place with 50 othersfrom around the world.I’m in orientationWaiting to be set free andchomping at the bit.The scent of Polo CologneAnd expensive cigarsSends me over an edgeThat I never recover.I can close my eyesAnd still drink deeplyThe scent of a man.Leather, WoodTobacco and mossMingled with sweat,fills every waking pourAnd I believe I’m finally alive.I haven’t forgotten herHalf womanHalf child.Sheepishly,I remember him.Eyes so blue they melt the soulA countenance so kindThat girls swoon.Yale Boy: A sheep among wolves.He is wise beyond his yearsHe satisfies nothing immediateAnd points me rather to life.There will always be boys.This year is a gift.Live it.The fact that I am only 15And he is 18May be aiding his wisdom.Oh, what a year to live.I live a year of museums and artOf the pomp and circumstance of the Nobel AwardsAnd meeting the kingEven if I do accidentally call him short.I live and swim in the Baltic SeaTumbling backwards down a hillWhen I my host family strips nudeIn front of me.I live trying wine and Italian foodIn Stockholm with friendsOnly to throw it up whileWatching The French Lieutenants’ WomanBecause I’m too young to live so quickly.StrandedWith no money or cell
I live hitchhikingBack to my town.Picked up by Iranians,I live and lie like a rugconvincing them I’m from Australiaand not an American.I live beneath the Northern lightswearing only baby doll jammies and ski boots,because at 16on top of the tallest mountain I’ve ever seen,that seemed the appropriate attire.I live to face down a drunken lumberjackwho doesn’t yet know he’s in drag and tries to kiss me,by kicking him in the shins with those same ski boots.I live to see the boyswho weren’t supposed to be in our cabinjump out of the second story windowlike lemmings off a cliff when I run to be rescued.I live to see Duffyfoolishly stay behindand receive a black eyedefending my honor.I live to come home again and chomp at the bit.I live many yearsThrough careersThrough marriageThrough sickness and health.I live in the middle of nowhere Oklahomawhich is somewhere really.Raising a familyThat’s almost grown.I live and I wonder what’s next for me.I remember the scent of a man,wise beyond his years,and it does nothing to satisfy the immediate.It just points me to life.There will always be boys.This life is a gift.Live it.
This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart. All rights reserved.