'Girl' As A Verb

A Poem by Reagan

It’s an awkward push
On black and white page
By coercing inversion
I have become a solid wage
In a slaughter house feud
I am the spinning coin
Before the cunning
And well-to-do
I am the blood-lust rush
To gold crown fathers
In closed fist hush
Who demand prodigal sons
From dowried daughters
In hungry head locks
I am the levied wage
That sells sheets of Glory
As if it were solid gold
From the pockets of the Willing
To the hands of the Bold
I am the silver spade
Made so
By another’s fame
Destitute and deviant
Selling the world
For diamonds and pearls
Word by word
In a paper house
Of capitol verbs
Where I whisper to stones
Stories of untouched gold
And of marble gods
In weathered words
All tremored and reverbed
They echo and ripple
In the air and fall back
As decoded secrets
Of methodical truth
Of how I’ve traded in
Days for years
Imagining verbs
In place of fears
Of how I’ve spoken
Ill of the dead
So the words would echo
In someone else’s mouth
And taste like dirt
I am now reduced
Once from a whole
But now something worse
Traded down in a word
Lacking cadence
But still in verse
I am a daughter
Born from a son
Named in a hush
A violent whisper
That speaks in a rush
The way the Gilded speak
When they’ve made the rich mistake
Of risking far too much
It’s just the price to be paid
For bargaining favors
In place of common wagers
On a two-headed coin toss
Focusing a rage
And disguising it
As gentle fuss
Words are what I have become
In whispers and winces
In stories and wishes
Ask me my name
And I’ll give you a verb
Tied to a shadow
In the shape of a bird
Black in each feather
Like the deepest sea pearl
Black in each feather
Like the words on a letter
Sealed by royal hand
To the girl
In an iron tether
Spinning gold coins
On her palms
In begging fields
And still-birth weather
Sealing the fates
Of the common
Of the cordial
Of the lesser
Of the better

Bargained is the girl who wagers the world