Bent but not Broken

By Martin Swann

From: Squeezed out early into the light
blurry faces cast shadows over me.

To: Slipping out late to walk alone.

I was new and unbroken

From: Praying somebody will and won’t talk
to me. Suspension without solution.

To: Up until dawn with like-minds pleading
the sun not to rise.

I am bonded not broken

From: At school, girls’ hugs flushing me red
but me not fleeing.

To: At varsity shot-gunning weed with an old man under 
the bridge, privilege protecting me.

I escape breaking

From: Refusing the terror of Small Talk and the discomfort
of another.

To: Weaving elaborate expositions about them and deciding
I didn’t want to talk to them anyway.

I am quiet, unspoken

From: Not remembering names needing to ask the next who the 
last was over and over

To: Still not remembering but could tell you what they wore

I am a broken record

From: Not understanding team Sport Speak

To: The Dictionary of Annotation of English Literature.

My spine does not break

From: An imposter in my own house 

To: Feeling at home with all my imposters

I am Bent. Not Broken.