WIFE and servant are the same,
But only differ in the name :
For when that fatal knot is ty'd,
Which nothing, nothing can divide :
When she the word obey has said,
And man by law supreme has made,
Then all that's kind is laid aside,
And nothing left but state and pride :
Fierce as an eastern prince he grows,
And all his innate rigour shows :
Then but to look, to laugh, or speak,
Will the nuptial contract break.
Like mutes, she signs alone must make,
And never any freedom take :
But still be govern'd by a nod,
And fear her husband as a God :
Him still must serve, him still obey,
And nothing act, and nothing say,
But what her haughty lord thinks fit,
Who with the power, has all the wit.
Then shun, oh ! shun that wretched state,
And all the fawning flatt'rers hate :
Value yourselves, and men despise :
You must be proud, if you'll be wise.

I wish
I had freckles
on my shoulders that would
t
r
ick
le
down to my blades
and show that
I have tasted the sun
And I wish that my sc
ars
would show
and
not (hide neath my skin and in
my heart’s shadows)
to let you know
that I have
seen
my share
of hurt
and
Overcome.

Sometimes when we cross a field
I think of jumping out
And running
To be on my own
To be free
Dancing alone
In the freezing air
Turning my hands red
My finger tips blue
And my lips white
While I sing about you

Velcro-like hands
Grip and pull
At every thread of his textile presence
As a spider clings
to her
silky haven in the rain

With every tear
she grows less stable
And every shudder
draws hopes of Heaven
Past this haven, in the tree branch, that she built her life upon

And the web; it softly whispers
It is trapped in finite murmur
Once high hopes of hereafter, embroider fears that she “was once”

In the rain,
she is suspended
Thoughts thieved away by daydream
Her mind drifts back to sunny lives
And her Velcro-like grasp
Loosens
Just a little.

I break stones all day long
Mother, you break your back
from dusk till break of dawn.

We moved from left to wrong
Mother. cornered by fate
I break stones all day long.

and watch you lay withdrawn
mother, dreading the hours
from dusk till break of dawn.

Scrambled notes of a song
mother, cheap lust’s prey - while
I break stones all day long.

Your hopes from times foregone
mother, breathe within me
from dusk till break of dawn.

Men who stain your sarong
Mother, plague my mind. So
I break heads all night long-
from dusk till break of dawn.

She is Divine
The kind of Divine
That inspires rhyme
While
Thoughts of her massage my mind
She is mine?
How?
She is Divine

I am drying paint, the latest coat of many layers.
My brightness and solidarity fortified by the finite base that I cling to.
I am already somewhat with purpose.
I don’t want to be anything more or less than what I am.
I just want to be more of what I’m becoming.

for my wife*


i.

it's old. this
what have I done, this
dark ship. the crates
steadfast
in their charge
of silence, the ice
bored
and breaking.
we move
in our cabin
bed

shift
our bellies
to stay
the compass
of hurt.

ii.

our new baby
we honor
like a bruise, a slack

blue
puppet
hangs itself

impossibly…

iii.

I say I’m sorry
in three stories
I envision
as three orphans
of wiser
men.

your shoulders remain small.

iv.

…too small
for what
reaches down
to shrug them