Teenage Kicks by Autumn Widdoes


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Teenage Kicks

Some days are days no words can enter, some days they slip in easily.
            You put yourself in my mouth the way words sometimes do.

When we were young and complying with the world,
            we denied the body its needs,

rarely eating, binging instead on vodka diets, wanting the kiss in those restless hours,
            wetness rubbing against thighs.

Taking the ink all the way in,
            letting it spill across beds of paper and garbage,

feeling about for things we didn’t understand,
            fearing that animal breaking free from its cage.

When the best years of life are stripped with the ancient wallpaper,
            in a childhood home demolished to make room for a happier family

there goes all that time
            worrying about boys who never thought about the importance of words;

and worrying about the perfect body,
            it fitting properly into its place;

and worrying about being someone that matters
            in a world that eats its malnourished young

out of indifference,
            out of boredom and spite.

When we were young, life was a promise.
            Sometimes the world is only a word

that you whisper inside me to get me all hot and bothered,
            to make me remember

all those years I never had the courage to admit
            the fear of the cage itself.



Autumn Widdoes

Autumn Widdoes is a poet, playwright, and theater/video artist. Her poetry has been published by Magma and is forthcoming in White Stag. She is a member of TASK 沖縄, a performance collective based in Okinawa, Japan. For many years, she lived on remote, isolated islands in what was once the Ryukyu Kingdom, but now lives in the Mojave Desert where she is currently studying Creative Writing at UNLV.