america the beautiful
made real for one in three,
everyone who wasn’t born to wealth,
relegated to poverty.
inclusive in name only,
class fixed by lines drawn red,
america the beautiful
is not the dream she said.
still, freedom looks aplenty,
for eyes that hold the lens,
in america the beautiful,
curation covers sins.
the homeland that we boast of,
imaginary, as it stands—
our country built on slaves and lies,
nevermind on stolen lands…

©Lacey Woodroof, 2023

once formed in His image,
God’s proxy on land,
untouchable credentials,
the Good Christian Man™️.

baptized by the bishop,
move over, Right Hand,
make space for our Savior,
the Good Christian Man™️.

confirmed for their privilege
and offerings of sand,
Commandments subjective,
the Good Christian Man™️.

blessed by the favor
of families deemed grand,
filled cups runneth over,
the Good Christian Man™️.

don Sainthood eternal,
absolution, be damned,
masters of salvation,
the Good Christian Man™️.

©Lacey Woodroof, 2023

two by two
they tie their shoes
not quite brand new
for school, they’ll do
and
three by three
they grow like weeds
bright eyes of glee
when teacher reads
then
four by four
they’ll bloom, get bored
minds meant for more
than how to block doors…
but
five by five
means staying alive
are odds on their side?
let’s flip to decide.
because
six by six
with guns in the mix
and sacrificial politics
they say there’s nothing thoughts + prayers won’t fix…
now
seven by seven
roll call less eleven
have we still not learned our lesson?
i guess thank god for the promise of heaven…

©Lacey Woodroof, 2023

teach me something
from the Book that you wield like a weapon or shield,
you said you read it.
did the ‘hands and feet’ bit.
bought the bracelet.

teach me something
from the Gospel you claim waging wars in His name,
What Would Jesus Do?
a mission trip or two?
Holy Spirit, come through.

teach me something
from the Scripture you preach while denying the Least,
you always recite it.
a Reading so gaslit.
praise Christ charismatic.

teach me something
from the Prayer that you cry as you turn a blind eye,
No Room At The Inn.
but forgive us our Sins.
Love Thy Neighbor, amen.

did you learn nothing?

please teach me something.

©Lacey Woodroof, 2022

she was four.
smart little girl, not a care in the world
he was a neighbor
they say boys will be boys.

she was nine.
a bit self-conscious, but kind
he was a classmate
if it’s flirting, it’s fine.

she was nineteen.
Jell-O shot lies dyed caramel apple green
he grew up with her roommate
not to worry; he’s clean.

she was twenty-eight.
a hand on the back, a gaze with weight
he was her boss
but the paycheck’s great.

she was thirty-five.
heavy with child, growing a life
he was her doctor
at least the baby’s alright.

she was one.
she was two.
she was me. 
she was you.
every age.
every day.
do we cry?
do we pray?

she was four.

they say boys will be boys.

©Lacey Woodroof, 2022

do You feel it too?
when They ask, ‘how are you?’
and you are You so You know who can
and who can’t
See.

that we’re Fine!

because You,
what can You do?
when crystal clear becomes rose-colored
and expectations are glitter smothered.
if cracks widen, craters deepen, chests tighten,
And I can see it.
They need us to be it.

Fine.

do you believe?
That I am me and I am we
But they want she,
A face for free
And free for us can never be
So we, she, me—

We’re Fine!

©Lacey Woodroof, 2021

when the Value of Life is based on a gradient,
and backing the backwards the mark of a Patriot,
do the equation.

it all computes.

because one plus one is too much to ignore,
and the preset scale tips Against or For,
our formula’s faulty.

please pay attention.

Gold Stars and Great Job! Validation they’re seeking,
addicted to approval instead of to thinking,
did you study?

the curve is cruel.

A’s should be easy on tests without questions,
but grades are assigned at the Teacher’s discretion,
so good luck.

it’s pass or fail.

©Lacey Woodroof, 2021

a piece here,
a pinch there,
a bit, and nothing more.

but bits and bits combine to bunches,
until I am
No More.

©Lacey Woodroof, 2021

that’s all i’ve ever been
Just
a girl with words.
and they tell me they like my words,
when my words are Theirs.

but when the Voice is
Mine
better seen than heard.
so what’s a girl with her own words?
one who Talks Too Much.

but yes mams and thank
You!s
don’t speak the Truth.
They’d rather prefer a girl with(out) words
Raised Right with Good Manners.

see that’s all I’ve ever
been
a Girl with Words
and pearls were never really my thing,
so here are My words.

©Lacey Woodroof, 2021