Poetry Friday: Plastic Salad Forks

My daughter, Ellen Elizabeth Grover, wrote this poem to be performed. I think the strength is still evident when you read it though, and I thought our readergirlz would appreciate the sentiments. Happy Poetry Friday, all!




plastic salad forks 

You girls 

who collect boy's 

firefly hearts 

in glass boutique jars. 

Who peer through 

chic magnifying glasses 

which focus the sun of your 

fluttering eyelashes 

to see how bright your latest addition will burn. 

This poem is not for you. 

That's right, you girls 

of the long black cotton legs 

of the soft plaid shirt-dresses 

of the beautiful 

                        beautiful 

untamed curls.

This poem is not for you.

You girls

of the scented hair, steaming from the iron

of the green tea frappucino glued to your bronzed hand

with the spine currently arched just so

for the poor poor boy in the front front row.

This poem is not for you.

This poem is for that boy

(in the front, front row)

who wants to save his first kiss

for someone really special

who rolls the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt

right up to the elbows

who looks at himself in the mirror and thinks

"maybe I'll ask her today." This is for you.

This is for you.

This is for the boy

who isn't too afraid he likes chick flicks.

This is also for the boy who is.

This is for the boy

who lives for the sound of rain

who doesn't look when the brunette in front of him with the beige, low cut top leans over to pick up

what she may or may not have intentionally dropped

who finds he can't decide whether the most beautiful place on a girl is the peach-skin fuzz on her toes, or if it's where the line of her neck disappears behind her ear

who knows the most beautiful thing a girl can do

is pray.

           This is for you.

This is for the boy

who watches Heath Ledger on the bleachers

in 10 Things I Hate About You

and thinks "Yeah,

I could do that."

This is for the boy

who yes, sings, and yes, dances

and also for the boy who can't yet

                                                       but thinks it'd be cool to try.

This is for the boy

who isn't afraid to use words

like "indubitably" and "proverbially"

who can't wait to use words

like "cherish" and "adore"

and who employs the word "cute"

out of the context of some girl's butt.

This is for the boy

who doesn't swear

who loves Shakespeare, the Bible, Tennyson,

who doesn't friend some random girl on facebook just because her profile picture is hot.

           This is for the boy

who wakes up each morning

hugs his mom

and prays to become a better person for her

before grasping the handle of his front door and stepping out into the downpour

into the drenching onslaught of what we girls have in store for them.

Don't let those shoulder blades rust in the rain.

This is for you.

So you girls

who twirl these boys around

your dainty plastic salad forks?

Who giggle as you sizzle them under the heat

of your high high heels?

Shame on you.

                Shame on me.

                                 Shame on us.

And boys?

This one's for you.


Ellen Elizabeth Grover, copyright 2011