Samantha Duncan
How to kick-box my way out of an archetype
the way Buffy Summers unstuck herself
from paper doll sweaters and the sticky male narrative cloak.
Bookish on the seventh day of the week, brilliant on the eighth.
But all I take in is the heel to countless abdomens,
the magic of her battle-resistant hair. Sometimes, I’m happy
to be floating exotic in a cup of male gaze
and off the school bus daze, where girls ridiculed
through their sunflower blonde sheets of rain hair
and white boys with natural red lips ignored me.
Dark and cinnamon stick-thin, I broke often,
but made sure my first adult purchase was combat
boots and a stake I keep close to the heart,
for my part as an extra in that third-wave finale
the way Buffy Summers unstuck herself
from paper doll sweaters and the sticky male narrative cloak.
Bookish on the seventh day of the week, brilliant on the eighth.
But all I take in is the heel to countless abdomens,
the magic of her battle-resistant hair. Sometimes, I’m happy
to be floating exotic in a cup of male gaze
and off the school bus daze, where girls ridiculed
through their sunflower blonde sheets of rain hair
and white boys with natural red lips ignored me.
Dark and cinnamon stick-thin, I broke often,
but made sure my first adult purchase was combat
boots and a stake I keep close to the heart,
for my part as an extra in that third-wave finale
The quiet distance the world has put
between itself and Michelle Tanner =
The length of twins’ intestines tied together.
A show that ran four seasons too long.
See also:
An ounce of self esteem.
Three pounds of cocaine.
Twenty-seven rotating father figures.
Bonne Bell money for two pairs of lips.
Two become one =
A recipe for brains
doing tandem jumps.
A chorus of applause
for adorable catch phrases
with expiration dates.
A reminder to all girls:
Experience the pain of spreading your arms to their limits.
Now take up as little space as you can.
Now take up less.
between itself and Michelle Tanner =
The length of twins’ intestines tied together.
A show that ran four seasons too long.
See also:
An ounce of self esteem.
Three pounds of cocaine.
Twenty-seven rotating father figures.
Bonne Bell money for two pairs of lips.
Two become one =
A recipe for brains
doing tandem jumps.
A chorus of applause
for adorable catch phrases
with expiration dates.
A reminder to all girls:
Experience the pain of spreading your arms to their limits.
Now take up as little space as you can.
Now take up less.
Loving Patti Mayonnaise
I cheered her on from the sidelines
of track meets, my awkward voice
echoing sixth grade psychedelic
off the inside of a hairspray bottle.
I like to think I taught her how
to keep Doug at the perfect distance.
but an old man told me to smile last week,
and I still haven’t thought of a comeback,
and I’m still learning how not to be a damsel
when asserting my need for help, still carving
a laid-back path through the weight
of my mind’s diet. She’d tell me to optimize
my experience within reason,
the hopeful product of a late mother
and disabled father. To my dismay,
she might even tell me to smile.
I cheered her on from the sidelines
of track meets, my awkward voice
echoing sixth grade psychedelic
off the inside of a hairspray bottle.
I like to think I taught her how
to keep Doug at the perfect distance.
but an old man told me to smile last week,
and I still haven’t thought of a comeback,
and I’m still learning how not to be a damsel
when asserting my need for help, still carving
a laid-back path through the weight
of my mind’s diet. She’d tell me to optimize
my experience within reason,
the hopeful product of a late mother
and disabled father. To my dismay,
she might even tell me to smile.
Samantha Duncan is the author of four poetry chapbooks, including Playing One on TV (Hyacinth Girl Press, 2017) and The Birth Creatures (Agape Editions, 2016), and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Meridian, The Pinch, decomP, and interrupture. She lives in Houston.