A Love Letter to My Print Out of the New Yorker Weinstein Piece

When I didn’t think

I had what it took

I carried you with me.


I had run out of articles,

I begged a friend to print you out.

You became my lifeline.


Your torn edges,

Your faded ink,

Your worn out creases.


When I stood before him,

Battered, Bruised, like you,

I hid you,

Close to my heart. 


I took you everywhere.

Every new person

I confessed to,

You were there.


Between my fingers, 

Hidden in Too-Big-Sweatshirt pockets,

Designed to let me 

Hide the shame.


I would twiddle with you,

While you lay

With your pulitzer,

Amongst gum wrappers

Pens, my algebra homework,

And some dimes.


In a quiet moment,

When I didn’t think I could make it through the day,

I’d sit with you, and read.


I was reminded of the



And Courage,

Emblazoned on your pages.


I read of

Ambra Battilana Gutierrez

Mira Sorvino

Rosanna Arquette

And all the others,

Who risked it all,

To protect others.

I was reminded of Ronan,

Who risked it all,

To listen.


If you could do it,

Me Too.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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