Tristan Robert Lange

First

This is the first,

Following many firsts,

A plethora

Of first pages

Of new books.

Not the first book,

But this first page

Bearing the first words

In the first free verse

I pencil in—

My graphite emotions

Bleed in scratchings

Grayed out

In a line up of raw,

Unfiltered,

Fucking fears

Forever fragmenting

My focus.

My anxieties not a first,

But for the first time

I am not just feeling my own,

But an entire world’s around

Me.

Why did I have daughters?

A first-time question

For me.

Was that selfish—

Selfish to create beauty,

Love, hope, and individuality—

To bring them into

An orange troll’s world

Where they’re viewed

As less

Than

Men?

Toupée totalitarians

Topple the truth

While the lemmings

Fall off

The liar’s cliff.

Sadly,

That is not

A first.

© 2024 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.