I have not failed at being a writer.
The implication of failure conveys a lie:
A series of accomplishments required to be a writer
Rather than an identity of which I cannot be stripped.
Like a virgin who slyly knows
How she craves to ride the wave
Of tremors that send shockwaves
From her stomach to her knees,
I compose these words in secret.
“Irresponsible career choice”
Through thoughts of ambition echo,
Resounding with connotations of a shouted
Corporate America raped me,
Shoving my knees to my chest
And insisting that I consented
Because a barely living wage
Can still grant permission.
Rape does not negate virginity
So I fantasize of this composition
And its power to transform
My naivety into prowess.
I will rock your word.
Laura Jeu lives in Pennsylvania with her dog, Scout. When not writing, she can be found trekking up and down mountains. Her gracious mom and considerate brothers provide helpful critiques, receiving the author’s chidings in return.