Forgive Me

But I am not finished thanking Anita Hill.

I remember standing in the student lounge
in a crowd
my first year of law school.
I remember her suit,
her posture,
her clear voice,
the wave of heat flooding my face
as I thought that's what it’s called?

I remember the wave of shame,
and righteous indignation.
I remember my senator,
Arlen Specter,
who interrogated her and mocked her.
They confirmed him anyway,
threw her away.

She was disposable,
as I had been.
I remember being young and bright,
just out of college,
but I was disposable,
used and thrown away for another's pleasure.
Oh, Thurgood Marshall,
that was the year of my going crazy.

Re-worked and reprised older poem that seems topical. I think it’s new and improved! Am sharing with the Real Toads on the Tuesday Platform... on Wednesday, naturally.