the girl that thought
his smile, a crescent moon.
Those eyes blue lagoons.
His cheeks rose petals strewn,

and danced to all his tunes. I'm not
the lady waiting for his calls. Biting
my nails as he stalls. Pacing the floor
till I leave ruts, for once I said enough’s

enough. I'm not the woman
up at night weeping in my pillow. My head
heaving in a smoky billow. My body's
plated as an armadillo. I'm the soldier

walking the mine fields, the warrior
refusing to yield. I'm not that girl. I
wield my torch as Lady Liberty, on my
front porch.