Beat a Child, You Have a Drum by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

I am not a silent poet

The last thing I want

is to be stored away in some university library

after it all –

dusty and neglected

forgotten on some top shelf of nowhere

afraid of heights

ever since my parents threw me down

the stairs

when I was eight months old

trying to make the crying stop I would imagine

after many weeks of sleeplessness,

first time parents explaining away the many bruises

I must live with


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