Your promised proof lacks rigor
and riots down the corridors of logic,
strong women bleeding inside,
all their energy confined in a wind tunnel.

I am not persuaded that my sisters are a dream,
though they die the long death of injustice.
How their voices swarm in my windows,
like maddening windchimes in a storm!

Your promised proof a color on no spectrum.
I set sail with the tide seeking forgiveness,
seeking the Newland where men do not subduct,
where oceans merge with female currents.