I always think I’ll be moved by proverbs
but they are like those Spanish cookies
that look good but taste like sand
I like easy-to-spot truths
as much as the next girl
so it’s not their simplicity that offends me
perhaps it’s the voice I imagine saying them
a dour scratchy sound
a wagging finger
a sense of satisfaction in warning the young
about all the doom
I think I will make up my own
a sweaty happy batch
so the next time you feel plain
remember that a red-winged blackbird
has no idea
her armpits
are so fine.