• Skip to main content
  • Skip to secondary menu
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Skip to footer

Poetry Catalog

We honor great poets. We honor great poetry.

  • Home
  • About
  • Contact
  • Submit Your Work
  • Writers
  • Advertising / Subscription

Finding Love In Prejudice, By: Andrew Cyr

March 19, 2024 by Andrew Cyr

Finding Love In Prejudice, By: Andrew Cyr

Penny despised people
who went against the grain
of her wealthy suburban town.
Penny wanted for nothing.
But the more she desired,
the emptier she grew.
Penny’s needs spilled before her knees.
An insatiable lust satiated with things
connected the dots to a girl in touch
with herself but out of touch with most.
Penny got kicks, making fun of those
without the means to defend themselves.
Penny created an account for an online message board
known for incendiary dialogue.
She penned posts under a pen name.
Penny said white people control the world
because their supremacy blessed them.
What’s the fuss? Penny said.
People responded in kind with derogatory euphemisms.
One day, between her sophomore English and biology classes, Eric saw the screen scroll on her phone as her pale fingers with red fingernails typed a message for the board.
“You hate blacks?” Eric said. Penny’s grin sagged into a frown.
“What are you doing?” she said as though Eric needed permission to see the person in front of him typing racist garbage.
“Do you hate blacks?” Eric repeated, drumming his fingers along the table’s edge.
The other kids stepped out for a smoke, even though they weren’t supposed to be smoking.
Penny exited the app and shut off her phone. “I was just having fun.”
“Fun, huh?” Eric said, arching a brow.
Penny lifted and then lowered her shoulders. “Yeah, fun.”
“Answer the question.” Eric placed his head in his hands, elbows propped on the desk.
The class returned, and the instructor completed the lesson. Penny’s mind wandered through her biology. Did she have a fucking brain? Not biology?
“What about race?” Penny said a few minutes before the bell dinged.
Mr. Silver stood before the class. He adjusted the glasses on the edge of his nose and scratched the back of his neck. “I assume you’re asking whether, say, whites are superior.”
Penny held up her finger. “I wasn’t going exactly in that direction.”
“Let me be as plain as I can be, Penny,” Mr. Silver said, raking his fingers through his hair as though hearing this question thousands of times took a toll on him. “You are better than no one.”
The class laughed.
Mr. Silver clasped his hands before him and gave her an empathetic glance. “And I say this in the humblest of ways, Penny.”
Penny experienced the mocking of the people she demeaned.
The bell did its thing, and class let out.
The kids filtered through the hall and exited the glass double doors as Mr. Silver gave homework assignments.
People talked loud enough to hear their business.
Penny lost sight of Eric.
Penny noticed him sitting below the maple tree, waiting for a ride.
Penny moved over the gold and red leaves.
She blushed and tucked her long, dark bangs behind her ear.
Penny motioned. “Mind if I have a seat?”
Eric stopped reading his Kindle book. “It’s a free country,
unless you want to put me back into slavery.”
“Haha,” Penny said as she sat beside him.
“You don’t need to—”
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Penny said.
“To make fun of me?” Eric screwed up his face.
Penny shifted her gaze to people chatting a tree away.
“Scared to be seen with me?” Eric raised his voice.
Penny waved her hands in desperation. “I wanted to date you.”
“You want to know if the stereotype is true?” Eric narrowed his eyes to draw a response.
Penny rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re getting at, but no. I’ve liked you since the fifth grade.”
“Hear that, guys,” Eric said loud enough for others to catch wind of, “Penny likes me.”
Penny tilted her head either way. “I deserved that.”
“How could you like me?” Eric said.
Penny motioned. “I do. I just do.”
“We don’t have that in common,” Eric said.
Penny’s insides nearly burst as her guts twisted
and her grin faded.
Penny started to push herself to her feet.
Eric stopped her, guiding her to sit again. “I’ve had a crush on you since the first grade; that’s what we didn’t have in common.”
“My parents will love you,” Penny said. “I haven’t had a boyfriend. Most guys are scared to approach me.”
“You’re not very approachable.” Eric laughed.
“Am so.”
“Are not.”
Penny folded her lips under her teeth. “Okay, so I may be a little rough around the edges.”
“No, you’re too sweet for your own good.”
The two talked, missing their rides
until nothing but the moonlight lit their paths.
Throughout the next few years,
romance shed its skin
and they caved to sin.
A sin that grace brushed away.
“Of all the things I’ve wanted…” Penny paused and cleared her throat. “Of all the things that I’ve wanted, none of them come close to what I want in you.”
“I’ve never had anything, but you make me feel like everything,” Eric said, wiping away a tear.

Share this:

  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
  • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest

Related

Filed Under: Poems

Get Every Post In Your Inbox 😳

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
(This is not the newsletter.)

Primary Sidebar

Never Miss A Poem (Newsletter)

Be Social

  • X
  • Facebook

Top Posts & Pages

  • Boom Box, By: Mary Bone
    Boom Box, By: Mary Bone
  • The Smell Of Food, By: Mary Bone
    The Smell Of Food, By: Mary Bone
  • Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland 1814 I. Suggested By A Beautiful Ruin Upon One Of The Islands Of Loch Lomond, By: William Wordsworth
    Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland 1814 I. Suggested By A Beautiful Ruin Upon One Of The Islands Of Loch Lomond, By: William Wordsworth
  • Calm Is All Nature As A Resting Wheel, By: William Wordsworth
    Calm Is All Nature As A Resting Wheel, By: William Wordsworth
  • Power Of Music, By: William Wordsworth
    Power Of Music, By: William Wordsworth
  • Poor Robin, By: William Wordsworth
    Poor Robin, By: William Wordsworth
  • London, 1802, By: William Wordsworth
    London, 1802, By: William Wordsworth
  • Poland, G.K. Chesterton
    Poland, G.K. Chesterton
  • Alive, By: Andrew Buckner
    Alive, By: Andrew Buckner
  • Sonnet, By: G.K. Chesterton
    Sonnet, By: G.K. Chesterton

Advertising/Subscribing = Loving

Buy Me A Coffee

Sign up for the newsletter. Get a gift.

Footer

Made with ❤ in Lubbock, TX.

Poetry Catalog Sponsors

Haiku Examples

Search

Copyright © 2025 · Magazine Pro on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in