A babies' cry is as natural as
the mushrooms uprooting--
puhpowee--
two births into the world; life made anew.

But then there is

the rush of train tracks outside the window,
or the sound of a wolf howling at the moon,
the feeling of bare feet on dewdrops,
and watching a hawk sweep down to a lagoon

Dance the tango with me.
two left feet I am spores,
two left feet I am floating

and then I crash down,
burnt paper and burnt cigarettes,
I have a cut on my face,
I have cut tulips in a vase.

I wish I could stand in a mirror and
confront what I see
feminine physique, feminine plastique
two beady little eyes staring back at me

my eyes tell stories of deceit,
my eyes tell stories of no sleep,
when I look in the mirror I don't see me but a
bare-***** woman numb in her defeat

these suicidal lullabies in rose-colored dreams
are how I say hello to the world for I am
cruelly stuck in its'
twisted seams

one day I'll drink salt water and
float out to sea
Edna Pontellier,
I am the real tease.