You were a boy never scolded, clearly,
yet, I, a girl, constant, under (fire)-(light)-footed.
Vigilant. Having nothing, having(all pretty pictures exclusive)
no personalities found within-
appearances, however, kept.
You were a boy rarely photographed, but dearly,
held within God's own mothering hand-in-visible
Having all, lacking (nothing was seldomly neglected)
and you were not even seldomly neglected.
there are pictures, inconclusive, but
our personalities
dictate
You were a boy never scolded-not molded-
I, a girl, precast, under fire.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tickle your toes. . .
-
July 12th My love's hands and eyes so full of surprise! he sees nothing wrong with giving me a synthetic strawberry.
-
wide-eyed and curious, he peeks from his shell with seaweed speckles, where 8 monarch butterflies landed permanently. he puts his footing on...
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
-
motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
-
confession is all: it is what my poetry is, and that is my life.
-
driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu... -
Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
-
Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
-
when our bodies clasp each other my heart lights a beach bonfire- and my toes forever step in it's embers.
Poets United Contributor
Quite a treatise on gender expectations and assumptions.
ReplyDeleteLove this insight!
ReplyDelete