he is so angry, so mean, lashing out like a rattlesnake with a rattle cut off,
stretched across a desert suburb’s road, sunbaked and alone,
so sure he’s warned you: to be careful, warned you: to stand down,
warned you: this is not okay– so sure you must know,
but he only has some leathery stub at the end
of the monstrous rope of muscle he is– stretched thin– at the end
of his strength, at the end of hisself who only means to protect: his self
he forgets to rattle– forgets– to warn, and he’s enclosed by the fear,
encroached by something greater than himself, by something
who must know it’s greater, and so he lashes, he bites,
he whips his angry amalgam body around, an animal provoked
by the simplest things– by a small beetle wandering by,
by the dust of the road catching in his eyes
he is ready to strike all the same,
and his rattle is gone–
his warning,
and protector,
and companion
you pass him by and he lunges, ready for what must come next,
and maybe you can dodge it, or maybe his bite stings and hurts,
and you wonder why he would hurt you, how he could find a threat in you,
and you think of calling animal control to wrangle him:
something so angry does not belong here
maybe he needs to live somewhere a little angrier,
somewhere a little more deserving of his anger,
but anger breeds fear, breeds insecurity, breeds anger,
and he will just make more of hisself in others,
again and again and again
you step back and he lunges again, wanting you gone,
and you oblige: run home to find it– what he needs–
and when you get back to him, he’s lying in wait, ready to lunge,
and you throw him a mexican baby rattle you never even used
so when you walk away for the last time,
the familiar sound of small beads
meets the sound of your footsteps
Author's Note:
I wrote the lost rattle after watching The Bee perform I Love You, Mommy Issues on Button Poetry, which pretty quickly got me thinking about the things we don't like about ourselves and how we can be compassionate to those things. For me, it's a feeling of anger and frustration that comes with insecurity, and so I really wanted to dive into that, personifying this anger as both vicious and childish-- something that's been stunted and needs to be nurtured and shown how it can grow. I loved the image of the rattlesnake without the ability to warn like it needs to, and so I just kind of ran with that, trying to guide him towards feeling like a pretty urgent and stressed character who just needs tools and resources.
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