Poem 1
When I laugh,
that distant racket is
Eve’s missing rib,
clanging inside me,
alive with each pulse,
its own syncopation,
almost falling out
through open doors
where cages used to be.
Poem 2
Convince me that to remember is
anything other than to
have swallowed whole,
to have choked even.
Poem 3
What do we do with a society
that embraces
the blood of war
but faints at
the blood of fecundity,
winces at the open wound
of birth
— how do we love,
afraid of our own origin?
Poem 4
The long shadow of a promise
half-kept,
the possibility of desire, a
side of destiny collapsed,
hinting: adventurous,
meaning ripe and windswept,
yet young,
meaning naive and untested
— let us, let us be dissatisfied
with how sweet salt can be.
Poem 5
I’m not the woman I was
— that’s it,
that’s the whole poem.
