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Isoindoline Nov 2012
This morning I lit a small candle by my bedside
to remember my promises—

I left, came back to do my hair
and shook the can of hairspray that holds me together—
Isoindoline Nov 2012
When he looked at her,
all he saw
was She,
She.
Anatomy as definition.
When she rose up
and the world saw Her,
all the world asked
wanted to know
were Her questions
and anatomically
related probes.
They saw Her, like he did.
And when he rose up,
the world saw him
they clamored to know
his accomplishments
his strategies
his stances
but nothing about Him.
There were no His questions.
Just questions.
Because he was a person, not He,
and she was not;
she was She.
I can't stand the way that people assume biological *** defines one's character and potential.  Men are people, and women are women with the way that our world views the sexes.  An illustration of this, and one of my biggest peeves, is what I read in interviews with powerful businesswomen.  They inevitably get asked the "work-life balance" question, and it is extremely rare to see that question asked of a businessman.  Implicitly, this assumes that women's first priorities must be "life" (ie, the home and family), whereas a man's lie with work.  Women are also subject to a million questions about their competency and level of commitment that men are virtually never asked when they ascend to a prominent position.  It is simply assumed that the men will handle their new responsibilities without difficulty, regardless of whether or not they have familial obligations.  I could go on about this further, but this is not the place for extended essays on the subject.
Isoindoline Nov 2012
I can feel us on the edge here
this narrow ridge we’re hiking
it’s thin enough in places
that I’m nearly certain we’ll
topple down the side

But we haven’t yet and
it could be your acrobatics
or mine
that’s got us still balancing
in an act a professional
tightrope walker
would balk at

We’re daring though
and the view from up here
so far is breathtaking
and the thrill of chill wind
against our faces
exhilarating

The peak not yet in sight
shrouded in soft white fog
that was forecast to disappear
by noon
instead it’s rolling down the side
thickening and reaching
for us

Our view goes white with gray
eddies loosely defined
interludes of curling air
the pebbled ground slowly fading
so we clasp our hands together
it’s less stable but
comforting
as the mist swirls between us

Soon there’s nothing
no outline
the last wisp of your hair
is gently consumed
into this vaporous world
where only a touch
obstructs
surreal isolation
If you have ever been hiking a mountain in dense fog, you know how strangely alone it is possible to feel, even with another person along.  I've only done so once myself, but I will not soon forget it.  Also, better title suggestions?
Isoindoline Nov 2012
the world is thinly crystalline
a fair veneer of snow
blurs forest arcs to silver
in the distance up a hill
a small girl stands
crimson banner
waving in her hands

no footprints
come or go
Isoindoline Nov 2012
Our hands are under the table
that subterranean space where
we can speak without talking
and still mind our own tasks

Our separate screens are reflected
in our eyes, and we’re being diligent
as your thumb slowly traces
the contour of my palm

I breathe in and bite my lip
and I don’t know if it’s because
I’m considering a question on my screen
or you just ran your fingers through mine

I wonder if you're aware of
your claim on my current composure
the gentle pressure of your hand increases
and I carefully control my breath

I'm somehow still checking answers
and your reading’s still steady and thorough
our eyes haven’t wavered from our work
though your hands are making me want
I feel like this needs another stanza between 3 and 4...
Isoindoline Nov 2012
I lick my lips in anticipation
as my eyes wander
up and down your length

And I lean forward
run my tongue just around
the edge to sample your flavor—

Dulce de leche ice cream cone,
you will forever be my favorite.
Yes, I am terrible.  I also wanted ice cream this evening, but I decided it was too cold. :(
Isoindoline Nov 2012
Lift—
Let it go
Watch it sail
flame arcing
as it turns
and falls
another rises
as I catch—
toss—
release—
light dances
on the faces
in the crowd
holding breath—
heat licks
at my hands
but I
haven't felt
the burn—
the torches
are long
enough
yet—
Might edit this still.
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