Jody MacDonald

The reason I have red hair
Has nothing to do with recessive genes

(my grandmother on my father’s side).
More to do with an inborn, acrid anger.
A dis-ease with how I find/experience the world, or my place in it.
Smoldering and consuming, burning from the inside, internal combustion.

[bumper sticker: COMBUSTION OR BUST!]

Such an angry little redheaded girl.
Why so angry?
Why such a hothead?
“Go sit in your room until you can control yourself”
I still try to put out the raging internal/infernal flames with tears.

Now, older, I feel an obligation to forewarn prospective relationships:

In The Event of an Angry Red-Head
1) Stay calm.
2) Do not attempt to extinguish the redhead yourself.
3) Proceed to the nearest exit and call 911.

There can be excitement in fire.
Passion.
Hypnotic heat.
Dancing flames.
Pretty to look at, but don’t touch.
[“I’m hot baby, don’t burn your fingers” - Cardigans]

My heat can be comforting.
My heat can be stifling.
You are free to choose
Although nothing is free – not even association.

Sound of fire from my mouth
Blasting like a banshee (sometimes)
Sobbing, quietly hissing (sometimes)
Sometimes, burnt down almost to ash
No sound at all
Just hot breath fed by cayenne – a spice easy to add too much too quick

Sick of the incessant anger, the deep belly burn.
Tired of stoking the fire and being raked over the coals, but
Uncertain of my ability to let go of the matches.
Unsure of my ability to rise, resurrected from the ashes
Afraid that – without the anger – I will just smolder into a pile of lifeless soot

Must be the oxygen tent in the hospital
When I was three
That fueled my fire and fear.

Posted Friday, January 18th, 2008 at 7:54 pm
Filed under Poetry.