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Even equilibrium
and equal weight

right brained
and left minded

light feet
but heavy hearted

tragic beauty
with uniform grisly grins

stuck
moving too quickly

poetic justice
and lyrical sin

I balance

the yin
             the yang

the pure
               the soiled

the fertile
                 the barren

the empty
and full






well...
at least I try
 Feb 2014 Mara Siegel
Jessica M
I've always hated PDA

but when I see you I can't help but to
reach out and scratch
your beard because its a
really basic human pleasure,

  to touch something and know
that it is yours-

especially when that something
is a someone
and that someone
thinks and feels and tells stupid jokes
and laughs at his own stupid jokes
and is better than me at the
    crossword puzzles we can only finish
  on mondays and tuesdays

I measure the passing of time
in crossword puzzles and the number of nights
until I can fall asleep with at least
65% of my body touching yours because
    I miss you
       any other time

and
all of the sudden
I'm really scared of you dying
 Jan 2014 Mara Siegel
wolf mother
it's in these moments
in waking hours of the day
as i lie restless in my tomb of colors
and the world opens its beady eyes
that i know
just how lonely i truly am
 Jan 2014 Mara Siegel
wolf mother
writing a poem about how you really feel
is perplexing, perturbing
when you do not know
whether you feel a thing at all

numbness or coldness
dramatics or monotone
i am one of two extremes
neither allowing them to see
the space in between
that holds the truest emotions i am incapable of expressing
the truest emotions i am incapable of exerting
i am incapable of knowing
 Jan 2014 Mara Siegel
Maddie Fay
less than one month into the new year,
and already i have made and broken resolutions,
quickly abandoning the poorly planned promises
i made myself.
i don't know what i was expecting.

i heard somewhere that it takes thirty days
to break or establish a habit.
thirty days.
five sets of six,
three sets of ten,
three sets of five sets of two.
you can't get four from thirty.

and i meant to go somewhere else with this,
draw it into extended metaphor,
but now the girl next to me is chewing gum,
and i want to cry.
i don't want to be a person
who freezes up at the sound of
saliva and substance.
it is far too easy to make my skin shrink tight
and start to itch.
i can't just pull it off,
and i hate feeling trapped.

i hate you now, too, for doing this.
i know it's not malicious or intentional,
but i will still resent you for as long as i know you
because you made me feel this way.
isn't that ridiculous?
but you know what else is ridiculous
is that the mind and body that have survived nineteen years
(despite my best efforts)
spiral out of my control
every time someone decides to chew.
i wish i could not be controlled
by something so simple and small.

(i think maybe the metaphor wrote itself.)
2014:8
 Jan 2014 Mara Siegel
Maddie Fay
my desire to build a world
where every little girl knows she is good enough
is enough to overpower
my desire to be liked.
i am done making pleasant
my priority.
2014: 6
 Jan 2014 Mara Siegel
Maddie Fay
Instead I sat stock-still as a room full of my drunken friends
laughed hysterically about ****,
and I listened in frantic silence
feeling like the **** of some joke
that I would never have the luxury of finding funny.
2014: 5, this one is late by about an hour, i'll write about Frankenstein when I wake up
 Jan 2014 Mara Siegel
Maddie Fay
you can tell by the way she swings her hips
and pulls your hair
and licks her lips
and whispers in your ear
that she's easy.

you'll know her by the short skirt
and the tight top
and the high heels,
by the butterfly tattoo on her lower back
and the drink in her hand.

if she carries condoms
or takes birth control,
if she can't say no,
if she takes no convincing,
you'll know.

she's the girl at the party who drinks the most
and laughs the loudest.
she's the one you discarded the first night you met her,
when she gave you
the only part of herself that you deemed worthwhile.

you'll figure her out
from the tar trails of mascara,
the untouched meal,
the word "worthless" carved into her thigh like a brand,
marking her flesh as property
to which you are entitled.

pay close attention to her need for validation.
a **** will have the audacity to seek your approval
just because she's been told all her life
that she is  nothing without your love.
she will measure her worth
in units of attractiveness
and desirability
because that is the only system she's ever been taught.

you'll know she's a **** when they find the defendant
not guilty,
and he arrives at the ten-year reunion in a limo.
you'll know she's a **** when she doesn't arrive
at all.

it's easy to spot a ****
in a society that teaches her that her lips are for kisses
and not battle cries,
that her hands are meant to be cradled in yours
and not ****** into the sky,
that her body is your wonderland
and not her home.

it's hard to miss a **** in a culture that paints women as ****** objects
while condemning any expression of female sexuality,
that glorifies the "good girl" who becomes whole
when the right man comes along
and stakes his claim.
the women you ****** in the lifetime before you met your wife
weren't marriage material;
you need a girl who's saved herself for you because
a girl who lets you **** her
crosses the threshold from ****** to ****
in a bizarre coming of age ritual in which your **** is so ******* important
that its temporary entrance to her body
renders her worthless.
you can tell she's a ****
because for her, there is no right answer.

you can find your **** at rallies
and in body-baring photographs,
alive in the anxious triumph
of finding something in herself that she can love,
of digging through a lifetime of rubble
and reclaiming small shards of forgiveness from the dirt.
her self-identified status
rips away your long-established privilege
of dictating who she can be
and defining her worth;
your resent her new autonomy.

you can march beside her,
or you can step aside.
she has stolen back her power.
she was made for revolution.
2014: 3
 Dec 2013 Mara Siegel
Jessica M
1.  I've known for a while now,
    but putting words to feelings
    is one thing, whereas saying
    those words is quite another.

2. You said it one of the first
    times I made you come.  You
    didn't mean it, and I laughed.

3. I looked at you while
    we watched *****
    Wonka in your dad's favorite
    chair, and I knew.

4. I tried to tell you after Thanksgiving,
    but it just made me want to cry.  I
    turned away; I don't think you saw.

5. When I said goodbye to
    my mom on the phone and
    said it habitually, I thought
    I saw you smiling.

6. You left a poem in one of my
    notebooks, and wrote it in morse
    code for me to figure out.  A little
    piece of my heart flew away; I haven't
    seen it since.

7. Your drunk best friend casually
    said you did, assuming you'd
    already told me.  You gave him
    a look, and I laughed.

8. I spit it out in the middle
    of the night, after weeks of choking
    on it, and you squeezed my hand
    and mumbled.  The next morning, you
    brought it up and I said "well, just
    so you know!" and we laughed.

9. It's 4am and I can't get it out of my head.

10. "I love you,
       I love you,
       I love you,
       but I'm so ******* scared."
whispers
of sunlight
and sun love
in a dusty bedroom
that's become home

if only forever
was laying
by you
the sun
peaking through
the blinds
creating oceans
and lines
on our bed
flowing

nothing but
moon lips
and quiet nights
of curly
love
and frequencies
shared by
just

you
and
I
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