I realize the error, now.
Feeling flattered to be
The girl let in. Abandoning

The others standing behind,
Waving their rough drafts
And unsharpened pencils.

Boys hold the sharpeners, but
I rode on with them,
Ego bloated. Like a man’s.

Didn’t matter though, right,
When it comes down to it?
All they wanted from me

Was not my art but
My body.

Most days, Heather, AKA Lady Diction, is either agonizing over writing or agonizing over not writing; therefore, she has chosen to live her life in a constant state of revision. She wrote her first poem, about a cat, when she was five years old and has used the genre of poetry as a GPS unit ever since. She also writes fiction, non-fiction and drama. When not writing, she works to help young minds resist the establishment as a teacher and as an activist, most particularly for LGBTQ+ rights.


If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

One thought on “Poetspeak

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