i know why we are demonized

and in so many ways diminished,

stripped of our beauty, our flags,

our voices and memories

our truth to power

our power

our efficacy

and rightful anger

our raised fist

because if we were not

if me too

were the acknowledged last words on the subject

then it would be all those boys, all those men

throughout all of his story

baffled and rapacious

that would/must be the demons

this evening i am at the corner of a glyph and the full rising moon

on an eggshell

blue sky

a songbird in my ear

and a man on my mind

and yes

i know a moment of grace

when it circles round

and falls into me

this morning i was

barely awoken

still silk and drift

and dream-spent

and now

now is a bit more complicated

she, like the clouds, would sometimes experience a similar drift pattern

lifted up and away

lit

and stretched thin

reaching heedlessly for what little she knew of the world

patterned green and blue below

storied in whispers that she would sometimes gather to her, like clouds

and try to hold

i’ve used that title once before

portrayed my anger as a result of being raped

for those that had been (i told myself)

as i hadn’t

though now have

but that’s not even where i thought i was going with this

this began in a more literal place

because of where we all are now

at the mercy of these microscopic parasites

just trapped and waiting

like that girl in my poem

sitting in that dirty cell

not wanting to hold herself accountable

angry, vulnerable, awash in the stench of mistakes repeated

held in place like a bug on a pin

dreadful isn’t it

how we find ourselves in these same places

these playgrounds and petri dishes

living out the vicissitudes of our nurturing and our natures

looking for whom to blame

when really, it is an inevitability, isn’t it

ruin

(but, also, renewal)

Taste of salt and blackberry

Overzealous at times but

Nubile and

Good at what she does

Understand me and the sibilant, somnolent

Energy residing silkily, here on my tongue

today i am poetry-in-motion

i am 14,114 steps,

5.3 miles and

26 floors of open heart and wayward soul

i am the green-eyed, soft-footed strength and curve of never giving up

and counting

if the muse, the eternal, the flow

all and everything would only allow me:

i would forever walk by his side

eat with him from our shared plate

and love him with all and everything that i have

this morning i am

here on the edge of peace

non-compliant

breathing in the air of spring

cool and petalsoft

thinking of him

wanting his skin against mine

whiskey warm

his breath there at my neck

his hands drifting the curves of me

his want edging up against my own

breezy

unfurling

sweetening the vine

it was

for a moment

ever so quiet

but for the buzzing in my ears

and birdsong

it was

for a moment

ever so quiet

had a pin dropped

it would have echoed

like thousands of tiny bells

it was

for a moment

ever so quiet