My Name is Katarina by Troy Schoultz

By age fourteen I wanted to ditch shooting hoops with the boys
And have Daddy makes his own fucking waffles.
I was tired of wearing sweatpants, tired of my
Wild hair, sick of my brothers putting me in headlocks
And calling me “Kit-Kat.” My name is Katarina,
I want to be a dancer,
And I’ll make your lives hell until you remember it.
On Wednesdays after morning mass
I’d stop by the church and light a candle for my mother 
with a stolen lighter I keep next to my stolen eyeliner, lip gloss
and the pocket mirror she left me.

I lied about my age to get this waitressing job,
And it looks like I’m still serving waffles to men with hangovers.
The goddamn name tag
I wear only has enough space for “Kathy” but I
Make a point of correcting the customers. 
Yesterday some old creeper, almost thirty, complimented me
On my smile, but it wasn’t my mouth he was looking at. Gross.
But I guess it’s a step up from headlocks free throws..

Troy Schoultz is a lifelong Wisconsin resident. His poems, stories, and reviews have appeared in Seattle Review, Rattle, Slipstream, Chiron Review, Word Riot, Fish Drum, The Great American Poetry Show, Steel Toe Review, Midwestern Gothic and many others since 1997. His interests and influences include rock and roll, vinyl LPs, found objects, the paranormal, abandoned places, folklore, old cemeteries and the number five. He is the author of two full length collections and two chapbooks