With regards to Retro and BlueIris--another Poetry Thread for tonight.

[Lyric]

Just because this one is so very powerful, and is from an emerging voice.

Invective

            TO MY BELOVED ENEMY

The point is: F.You.
That’s all it—(everything)—ever meant, ever.
That’s all it’s for.
It’s a bummer how significant you grew
And how I so need to revenge you.
All I do and will do is a way to get back at you, to this I am dedicated.

I’d like to watch you really stew in your own shit,
when I pull off a complex psychological mind-f-er.
(Yeah, you can do it, though it may take years.) (1)
E.g., the point of my successful career as a _____________ is F.You.
And the point of my unlined face is: F.You.
And the point of my sobriety is F.You.
And the point of my boob-job is F.You.
And the point of my twelve-year-old car and my million $ house is: F.You.
And the point of my beautiful new paramour?
So the old will say, “How could you!”
And the point of my unfailingly sincere smile is: F.You.
Oh, indeed, without you, my life has no meaning.
Oh, indeed, I wish you
Envy and covetousness;
Let me be the teacher who teaches you about your pratfalls and weaknesses!
Because then you could “eat your heart out,” (2)
You could grimace and ache with regret, bile, and gas pains.
I’d rather that you cry—don’t disappear or go very far away, my lovely dear—
Who, then, would incite the throb of your varicose veins?

Sorry, you’re not my type. Honey, get some help.
Okay—you were right about that—
So you told me—so I did—get help—
Oh yeah, I understand now,
Come ‘n’ get it—I get it all now—
It’s all about: F.You.
You taught me that screw.
When the meek get their due,
They get a chance for F.You.
And you were right—I was a loser, all right, and you, a hammer-on-anvil
         armstrong.
But don’t gloat too much while you stand away your life on your
Rose Parade Float. (3)
Don’t forget to make eye contact with your legions
Your lovers who loved your cruel maneuvers;
And still love you with unmentionable unreason.
Before you stumble,
and cookies crumble,
before you look into my eyes as I say,
“You’ll never know how much you meant to me.” (4)
With a cold, new kind of smile.

(1) (But it's worth it)
(2) This language is probably not fresh enough for you. Here: here's a head of lettuce for you.
(3) Yeah, like this is really some obscure reference. Don't make trouble!
(4) I will really be saying, “F.You.” And thanks.

Stephanie Brown

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Stephanie Brown is the author of Allegory of the Supermarket and Domestic Interior. She has published numerous poems in the American Poetry Review, and her work has been selected for the anthologies American Poetry: The Next Generation; Body Electric: Twenty-Five Years of America's Best Poetry; and four editions of The Best American Poetry. The recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, Brown is a public library branch manager in Orange County, California.

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:hi: