A Poem for You: This’ll Hurt Me More


This’ll Hurt Me More  by Camille T. Dungy Don’t make me send you outside to find a switch, my grandmother used to say. It was years before I had the nerve to ask her why switch was the word her anger reached for when she needed me to act a different way. Still, when I see some branches— wispy ones, like willows, like lilacs, like the tan-yellow forsythia before the brighter yellow buds— I think, these would make perfect switches for a whipping. America, there is not a place I can wander inside you and not feel a little afraid. Did [...]