Impudence

She spoke, like the
silence owed her something.

Walked through rules,
like wet cement.

Eyes sharp. Voice flat.
No fuss. No apologies.
No pause for names.

And never, for consequences.

Chairs scrape back
whenever she arrives.

But she never cared.
Or noticed.

When questions were asked,
she answered twice.
Once the honest.
Once to dare.

At first,
they called it pride.

Then lack of grace
(or worse).

Every day,
things became
a little more
broken

apart

No matter.
She just called it, Tuesday.

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt: impudence (84 words)

2 thoughts on “Impudence”

I love your poem, Sarah.

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Sarah, “She spoke, like the / silence owed her something” is such a bold and piercing line—I can’t get it out of my head. I love how you’ve captured defiance without a single raised voice.

Much love,
David

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