My former co-worker Micah once instigated a challenge with me, saying that he would give the title for a poem, and we would each interpret it as we chose, each write a poem with that title, and see which one was better. I actually wrote one. I don’t think he ever did. (He owes me!)
The title he chose was “Pimp the Guilt,” which we thought was kinda funny sounding– but OCD was in its hey-day in my life, and the title actually reminded me of the way my disorder made me feel guilty all the time.
This is what I wrote:
PIMP THE GUILT
The smallest thing, a trigger,
a rooster. Casual words
look like pointed fingers,
wagging in accusation,
and me, unable to process
advice for what it is,
feeling shame rip my heart
the way you’d tear a valentine.
