Bethany Tabb

See her Critical Review of Langston Hughes' Poetry

Oklahoma, undefeated

We are the wheat that grows in the rust red soil.
We bend in the wind and rise again.
No gust can tear our roots from the soil.
No storm can beat us to the ground.
We rise and stand proudly in the sun.
Our land has turned to dust, our fields destroyed.
Tornadoes have devastated many a neighborhood.
We have been attacked by one of our own.
Still our backs are straight, our dignity strong.
We cannot be conquered by nature or man.
We rise and stand proudly in the sun.

What the Former Nudist Said

My neighbor called me to her side of the fence
and handed me a bouquet of fresh basil.
She told me she isn’t a communist—
anymore.
She said she used to be a nudist—
her tan was never better.
She said of course the punch at the garden party was spiked—
perhaps she should have told the children.
She said people think she’s crazy but she’s not—
I believe her, don’t I?
I went back to my side of the fence.

Defenseless

I carry my heart in a metal box
in my pocket.
Its padlock cannot be picked.
I keep it hidden during the day.
At night I put it under my pillow.

I bought it
from a traveling salesman
who said it would keep
my valuables safe from harm.

But yesterday I noticed a crack
creeping across the box’s side.
It appears brittle
and likely to break.
It must not be as strong
as the salesman said.
And I didn’t save my receipt.

Because all I could think about was pie…

Cream and caramel swirl
atop a mountain of meringue.
Its peak curls and takes a bow
as our mouths water.
Grandma’s outdone herself.

Annoying comments are made with good intentions

Free and unchained at last,
I inhale the sweet scent
of independence.
I am single,
I am strong,
I am—

Are you sure you aren’t lonely?

My time is my own,
my phone bill
significantly lower.
It’s refreshing,
It’s a relief,
It’s—

Why don’t I set you up with someone?

Love is somewhere
in the future,
and I am in no hurry.
I’m happy,
I’m complete,
I’m—

Why don’t you have a boyfriend?

Mirror, Mirror On the Wall

A mirror cannot tell lies.
It does not sugarcoat the truth.
It must be brutally honest
when most would prefer a fib.
Layers of hairspray
and those white flecks of toothpaste
cannot hide a receding hairline.
A mirror will never say
your haircut isn’t bad
or you haven’t gained weight.
If your butt looks big,
it will be happy to tell you.
It promises to always tell the truth,
but your satisfaction
is not guaranteed.

What I Meant To Say

I wanted to tell you
you didn’t ruin my life.

I hope I didn’t ruin yours

even though I said
I hoped I did.

You’ll meet a lovely girl
one day

but not as good as me.