Poetry

Resting Bitch Face

My face no longer settles into smile
I want but cannot turn it upside down
It feels too much like simple-minded guile
Genetically it is the Cooney frown.

It’s not that I am angry or judgmental
Accusing you of things you didn’t do
Authentic’s not the same as sentimental
I’ll smile when you say something that is true.

I can’t police my face to make you happy
My mind is busy thinking my own thoughts
It’s not my job to fix you when you’re crappy
Your narcissism’s showing and self-doubt.

Not sweet like sugar but like cinnamon
Won’t candy-coat your bitterness again.

Link to publication

About the Author

Julie HartOriginally from Minnesota, Julie Hart has lived in London, Zurich, and Tokyo, and now in Brooklyn Heights. Her work can be found in Five Quarterly, Denim Skin, PANK magazine, The Rumpus and forthcoming in Floor Plan Journal.


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