Mr. Williamson likes a pattern
that's simple shape to simple shape
repeated over and over.
Mr. Williamson likes a painting
that stereotypes itself
and the generations of paintings that he thinks laid the rules before.
Mr. Williamson likes to zoom in
and straighten out all the jagged edges
so we're simple little squares obeying their every word.
Mr. Williamson hates me
and my difficult, imperfect body;
I don't fit into the entitled, rich works he was taught about before.
Mr. Williamson hates diversity
in all its puny forms
he doesn't care that it's impossible to focus
when you're a circle trying to fit through a silent, square corridor.
He'll just chuck you out and humiliate you,
tell you he was sweating what was small
because Mr. Williamson doesn't want to make something functional;
he benefits from their rules.
JE LEEST
Catherine
Poëzie'Lines marry stars making constellations in the dark, yet my line has cut straight through my heart.' An anthology trying to make sense of the darkness in all its forms.
