WHO YOU ARE
You don’t want to pull
The past over your head like a blanket
Battle yourself over the bed
Of your own making,
Dare someone else’s demons
To tempt you.
Is that ringing in your ears
Some kind of warning
Or a tremor in the voice
You don’t want to consider,
Like ten thousand reminders of who you are.
Deborah Purdy lives outside Philadelphia where she writes poetry and creates fiber art. Her work has appeared in Gravel Literary Magazine, Cleaver Magazine, The American Poetry Journal, and other publications.
