aayoung
so he took her like an animal
but my father’s ghost wept
so she went to the men
like a good American
good people don’t want to believe
in visionaries good or bad
especially when you have red clay mud
starved stabbed scabbed over and over
on your grandmother’s dress from being raped just like her
from ft. Sumter to Wounded Knee
he’d never seen that color red come out of a living fertility statue
my veil is torn
the dog is dead
the natives have resumed their drumbeat
I’ve done my share. Coast to coast.
I’ve done my share of poet husbands, too.
you have descended
from indigenous medicine women
and girl scout goddesses
you came into this life
with power that takes growing
into
head held high
with strong female role models
confidence you will cultivate
by surviving pain
rising to challenges
you’re finding out
you’re stronger than you know
by
creating your own peace
owning your joy
making happiness your choice
remembering you have endured
their belittling words
because
they need to feel better than you
because they have nothing to be proud
how sad is that
pity them
waste no time on bitterness
take comfort
people like this are their own reward
you will rise above their words
you will outlive their petty hearts
the world fears all shades of women and girls
who believe in themselves
do not ever give a bad person
the power
to make you feel like
you are less
to make you ashamed of the way you are woven into the fabric of our universe
or that it is anything but
perfectly divine
to be you
for the first time in my life
i love someone
more than my heart can stand it
me walking in my late thirties overcoat
on the sidewalk behind her
downwind
she smelled like Love’s Baby Soft
cigarettes
Doc Martins lockstep with teenage sin
and i thought how freeing it would be
to be that oblivious again
i’m not shaving
my pubic hair anymore
i’m tired of the grow out phase
looking like my pussy
should be a monk
in a medieval
priory
Critic: “Your poetry has taken on religious overtones as of late…”
Me: “Yes, as have I.”
Critic: “Why?”
Me: “I suppose it is a condition arisen from having played paper dolls with death my entire life…”