The Poet X

by Elizabeth Acevedo

It happens when I wear shorts. It happens when I wear jeans. It happens when I stare at the ground. It happens when I stare ahead. It happens when I’m walking. It happens when I’m sitting. It happens when I’m on my phone. It simply never stops.

When I’m told to have faith in the father the son in men and men are the first ones to make me feel so small.

Just because your father’s present doesn’t mean he isn’t absent.

And I think about all the things we could be if we were never told our bodies were not built for them.

The world is almost peaceful when you stop trying to understand it.

Late into the night I write and the pages of my notebook swell from all the words I’ve pressed onto them. It almost feels like the more I bruise the page the quicker something inside me heals.