She’s got a lot of nerve
Talking like that,
Like she thinks she’s everybody,
Like the sun shines out of her backside.
Who does she think she is when she’s at home?
Through shaded eyes.
She’s bold as brass,
The little madam
Looking at me like that.
Wants taking down a peg or two.
Who does she think she’s talking to?
Words as shields
To keep safe.
They all lie.
Notes: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that “talks.” … Try to write a poem grounded in language as it is spoken – not necessarily the grand, dramatic speech of a monologue or play, but the messy, fractured, slangy way people speak in real life.”