Keepers (4)

By: Stephanie Burt
July 23, 2016

One in a series republishing 10 poems — about everyday objects and pop culture avatars — by HiLobrow friend and contributor Steph Burt.

FOR AVRIL LAVIGNE

I used to be told
just what to play, and how to play:
I was wide-eyed
for the halides, the emerald tides
of applause, raccoon-eyed in the
foreign sun.
That’s the thing about spotlights: it hurts
when they leave you alone.

Now I feel old:
at least nineteen, today.
It gets hard to decide
who to be: minx, brides-
maid, pirate, tagger, ghost girl, in search of
more fun
than I cóuld be when I was my first name,
blank as cut stone.

Dad, I want to say thanks
for forcing me to practice
every night after school. It’s hard to
      postpone
what you want for what you will want later,
      to put things off
when you might change so much from
      each March to that May,
but now I know you have to study so hard
      to sound free,

and if everyone thinks
I’m fake, Goth-lite, black lace
and tennis shoes and butterflies drawn
on denim in ballpoint, it is almost enough
to know you still pay me attention: I will say
that I’m crazy, I’m yours, I’m real, I’m lost,
but the me

that I want to keep is the one that dictated
      the mix,
the author of gold-notebook storyboards,
      not the star turn:
the planner in the mirror, the overhearer
who once stood in line for so long, who
      wanted to learn
the secrets, the customs, the costumes, the
      whole bag of tricks.

***

ALL POSTS IN THIS SERIES

STEPH BURT at HILOBROW: KEEPERS (10 poems) | GENO (EPIC WINS series) | NO KILL I (KIRK YOUR ENTHUSIASM series) | ENTANGLEMENT (HERMENAUTIC TAROT series) | HAPPY BIRTHDAY (QUIRK YOUR ENTHUSIASM series).

Keepers (4)

Categories

Tags