shortened sugar sepulchres,
a mighty magma quells the mist.
I raise the rightness of my fist,
am found in foolish contraband.
sidling sickly into sight:
the grassy knoll, the city slick.
sirens gleeful, each too quick
to sing the copper terror down.
stunted egos, yellow beaks,
a yawning paw that gathers dreams.
taut blue bubbles, doors that scream
a throaty paunch of mold immured.

This is my problem.

You speak.

I listen.

You speak.

You pause.

I tamp down the first response;

tamp down the second response;

by the time I have arrived

at the third, tame, response,

you are speaking 

and I listen.

When you leave me-- as all my partners do, when they realize my core is made of hot, hard anger-- I will still have a straight spine, long talons, and a bright smile, because my core is made of hot, hard anger.

Since I am not heard 

I will not speak. There is no need

to explain to You how

the world should work, after all; nor

any need to explain what I want

or do not want, because 

You, already, know. And will give these things to me

if I sit still, look pretty, keep quiet.

Keep sweet. 

Tithe my daily portion, raise up 

more than my time or my money or my body:

all this and also my Self, I give to You.

For salvation. For penance.

For careful ignorance, for physical safety.

All this and also my Self.

It is not, for You, too much to ask.

Mourning something I never had, a reality I never experienced. I've left you so far behind, I cannot remember the ways in which you hemmed me in or caged me, though I am sure that you did. Was the cage transparent enough? Am I seeing a falconer who uses the hood effectively? I would rather not see all the things I cannot be. I will be what you want: an oversexed housewife: I will do your dishes and listen to your opinions and be ravenous in bed later: I will worship at your feet for the right to be blind. Mourning something I never had: there was always a void in our bed. Pull me back, now. Help me remember all the ways I failed myself.

My favorite thing that has happened lately was on the training call for All Access after reviewing guidelines for nonconfrontation with protestors, Ben asks if there are any questions, and there is silence. The sound of 30 fierce women and their determination.