September 15th, 2026
by Katrina Wickman
Did my oversharing overshadow your small talk? Better yet, did it make you uncomfortable? We met six whole minutes ago. Were you not yet ready for my trilogy of mistrust? One. It started with a man much bigger than me; A man much bigger than my family. Two. Girls in high school are mean. Two. Girls in college are mean. Two. Girls in offices are mean. Three. It’s ongoing, It’s everywhere. The world is untrustworthy and untrusting. A woozy rhetoric of shameless self-preservation. Sleepy in connections, Awakeness alone. Three. Cobblestones are rigid, so I roll my ankle. Three. Red potatoes are purple. Three. Freshwater still needs to be filtered. Three. There’s no warning label on roses and they die. Three. There are no synonyms for safety that aren't lies. No polite way to say, I don’t believe in peace anymore. So I talk too much, too soon, too raw. Hoping honesty will outrun judgment. Did you flinch when I spoke my truth without an apology? I know, I know. It's a lot for six minutes. But I’ve learned how silence shapes a prison. And how eye contact can be currency. So here, Take my tragedy like spare change. Heavy in your pocket. Annoying, clinking, Un-spendable. And if you choose to stay, If you don't shuffle off with a smile, File my name under “Nice, but intense”. I might just believe you're real enough For a fourth chapter
About the Poet
Katrina Wickman resides in Kanata, Ontario, Canada.
Read the poet's biography and Wax Poetry and Art publications
on Katrina Wickman's Artist Page.
This poem is included in Poetry World #16,
published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in Ottawa Poetry Magazine:
Evelyn in April
by Juliette Isaac
Ottawa Poetry Magazine is part of the Wax Poetry and Art Network.
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