For Jasmine

I once knew a girl

whose mother would slap her wrist

if she spoke at the dinner table.

Now the “damns” and “fucks”

fall through her teeth

and she doesn’t reel them back in –

here they are,

arriving with a bang on your doorstep

and you invite them in for dinner

because she has earned her right

to profanity and cheap language.

She doesn’t tell me she misses me

she tells me she fucking misses me

and all the while

a boy takes her to an auditorium

and tells her to scream as loud as she can

and she does

and it is so raw

the whole world leaps to its feet

in astonishment

and I applaud her from

a mile away.

You spoke, and the world jumped –

you spoke,

and the world

jumped.

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