Monday, September 20, 2004


I was looking for something on my computer just now and ran across this. I wrote it a while back - just random fast poetry/prose/puking onto a Word document. I used to hate to hear my husband say my name. One day a friend of mine called me "Chica" and it was so awesome. And I wrote this. I've got other friends who call me things like "Sister" now (as you can tell from the comments section). I'm hoping someday to reclaim my name. But while working on's my crap poetry for the afternoon.

The angry, insistent call from the next room scrapes my heart like glass shards
Always annoyed, irritated, or demanding
Trying to sound sweet now
He must want something
“Hello!? Darbi!!”
Louder, angrier – I wish I could crawl into a corner
Better answer soon before he has to get up off the couch
He needs something from upstairs
But can’t stop playing his game of internet pool
I’m only doing laundry and dishes
Surely I’ve got enough time for his errand
3:00am. – I’m sleeping, peaceful
Wake up for work at 6:30
A slight prod, trying to wake me up
He must want something
I just pretend to sleep through it
It doesn’t matter, he will take what he wants anyway
How horrible is it to hate the sound of your own name?
If I never heard it again for the rest of my life, that would be okay
How nice is that?


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