National Poetry Month - Struggles

Struggles

Jesus said to me

A million times,

“Serve the poor.”

So we stood in that conveyor line

Shoveling out taco meat

To a man who handed over his plate and a God bless.

And it was the sweetest prayer I ever got.

And a million times Jesus said to me,

“Give a voice to those who have none.”

So we marched.

We marched our battle song.

And when our mouths didn’t know the words

Our feet pounded them into that black cement.

And it was the best tired I’ve ever known.

Then one day Jesus said to me,

“Show love to your enemies.”

Yo.

Now hold up Jesus.

Lord knows I’ll never tell you no.

But this one’s gonna take a while.

by Maggie Myers 

National Poetry Month - Potter St.

Potter St.

It is better to get kisses and hugs

but a long time ago she lost her soul to drugs.

Now she sits on my stoop, shootin up

as if she’s never even heard of good luck.

Fuck.

‘Cause I’m a silly white girl who just moved in

and I can’t even pretend to know where to begin.

So I drag my feet up the road

praying it’ll take a thousand years to get home

—and maybe by then she’ll have moved on.

No,

with each step that needle goes in, in, in

aahhhhh

“Excuse me…”

“Sorry.”

She walks away.

I close my eyes and pray, “God-damn!”

            As I kick another syringe off our steps.

by Maggie Myers

National Poetry Month - Teaching Place Values by an English Teacher

Teaching Place Values by an English Teacher

The Ones place: The number of teachers in this room.

The Tens place: The number of students.

The Hundreds place: The number of times I’ve heard, “I can’t do this.” No, wait, maybe thats

the Thousands.

Ten Thousands: The number of seconds in aftercare.

Hundred Thousands: The number of times I’ve taken a breath, counted to ten, and talked myself out of ripping out all my hair, or yours.

Tenths: the percentage of students working on homework.

Hundredths: The number of seconds that pass between questions.

Thousandths: My own grasp on the subject at hand.

Ten Thousandths: The number of seconds that pass between complaints, a never-ending tirade.

Hundred Thousandths: “But is it right?” “I don’t know! Count the zeros!” And we’re both reduced to tears.

Infinity: The number of times I will return to sit next to you, pushing you to try again.

Zero: The number of times either one of us is allowed to give up.

by Maggie Myers