speechwritten II

maybe I’m wrong
for being a little bit annoyed
that in your touching tribute
in which you read my words
as if you had written them
you preferred to keep the author

maybe you wanted
to make me mad
because my words taste better
well-seasoned with
fiery rage.

maybe I invited this theft
by talking about Zelda,
the patron saint
of women whose writing
was stolen to feed
the egos of men
who could not acknowledge
their greatness.

maybe I’m being
churlish, or maybe
this is just par
for the course
for us.

so: thank you very much
for the semi-honor, and
fuck you very much
for not giving me
the actual credit.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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