I jaywalked to the police station this afternoon
with a copy of my book
for the sergeant who had mercy on me
when I tore through town
in a state
because my alcoholic daughter
called me a whore
for loving her father. If she had
written a ticket, I wouldn’t have
had a dime leftover
to buy my own book.
I bought twenty-five copies
and jaywalked one to the police station
to say thank you
for seeing me,
a woman devastated
by her own flesh and blood
as a sister of grief
instead of something common,
another transgressor
to summon to the bench
for judgment.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a subversive weirdo nerd witch who loves rocks. Intrusive rhyme bothers me. Some of my fiction may have provoked divorce proceedings in another state.😈
My words are mine. Suggest ai use and get eviscerated.
MA English literature, CofC
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Comments (4)
This is so weird because I bought your book this morning and then read this. Such incredible pathos and taut writing. A great poem to wake up to this morning.
Sending hugs and for the situation, and hope things improve
Omfg, Harper. This. This is everything. Grief. Love. Humanity. Humanness. Messy. Mercy (not pity, not judged, and also a human-to-human judgement - wise, perhaps…definitely sound, care-full) about how to use the power she held. She shared it. She didn’t wield it. What a beautiful offering. (As an aside, it both pains and moves me to give such praise to a police officer, as I’m becoming more and more staunch in my ACAB stance…however this a a great reminder of the separation between individuals and the institutions / systems they (we!) represent, exist in, participate in, etc. sometimes systems need revolution from within and this gives me hope. ✨💖)
Wow, these insights into your daughter’s behavior are powerful. Has she tried therapy? The book looks like fun, though.