Not right, not right, not right.
Matchmaking is more than a plight,
I shall denounce the insolence with a single breath
into the dead of night.
Who minds that only I am the one who breathes,
flames flicker by my outstretched hands,
extended sleeves,
I shall not learn what it means to flee.
I will stand strong and steadfast
without losing face,
treated unfairly,
lost the place in my race,
it’s not right to besmirch on a day such as this,
wriggle those magical fingers,
fend off those ill feels,
I shan’t bother to ache,
rather I’ll begin to heal.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 