tightly bound in a symmetrical web of muscle,
her skull is her chariot in this world
she's a solid arrow
pointing in the direction of her faith,
though you claim to have none,
sharp--and brimming with love,
though you claim
to be so empty,

heedless of their jabs and grabs,
the engine is alive in blue coals
held there by one who knows something
deeper there, somewhere inside...

and when the system breaks down
she holds her grace.
so much is vibrant with this woman
pushing past her definition
iron strong
but nothing's normal--
just the way
i like it.