They'll get their powers back
by tomorrow morning
and unfreeze the well
to save the water
because they had to carry in snow
and melt it.

My sister painted a picture
of the dead fetus she lost,
at the bottom of our toilet.
Every time I flush, I think
about how hard it must have been
for her to.  

I met him in that painting
and he already knew me.
He’d heard my voice singing show tunes in the car,
tasted the sugar in my key lime pie,
and now his porcelain tombstone is in the blue bathroom.
He grew in the darkness of her womb
like a sunflower seed buried deep in the ground.
He was cradled in nourishing fluid, wet soil-
until breaking ground into the light
into a world of people, already grown.
But when babies stop growing,
people already grown-
have to grow a little more.

if i ever love again
it will be tomorrow
or the next day
or the next
in such a natural, evolved way.

i love and am in love
consistently,
permissively,
incessantly.

it's loving..

just pure souls touched
like
a simple handshake
or
smile exchanged.

every women is a goddess.
even the sad and bitter,
broken,
choking on every emotion,
beautiful
deity.

that is me.
deity.
bronze goddess, me.

i am woman,
hear me purrrr...
when you look at me
with woeful eyes
ever so
lovely.
touch me,
ever so,
behind that place...
you know?

looking out into a world
i made with my own
hands,
molding clay,
folding pieces like origami;

like God and her gorgeous eve,
which only took about a week,
yet mine,
seven years times three.

a world built on
a lack of love,
no miracles above.

just something from the inside
of every pair
of beautiful eyes
that saw what i could not surmise
about myself.
putting every woman on the
tip top, highest shelf.

even the ***-crazed heathens
committed to
stealing pieces of my heart away
when i'd be
more than pleased
to give them freely
and entirely.

that fiery,
from the pit of hell
burning,
yearning,
lusting and learning.

if i was damaged
along the way,
i never minded the price i paid.
i never minded
getting laid.

i only ever minded
the love going away.
never wanting to stay,
turning back around
as if only to say,

maybe..
i'll come back around
your way,
just don't start counting the days
or the moons.
just stop trying altogether
to make girls swoon

because this
is the simple
and honest truth.

if you ever love again
by midnight
or by noon,
it will still
have been
too soon.