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Apr 2014
she, a willow wisp gone sour in the sunlight.
she, they said, a wide-eyed one time choking laugh
she, a too-bright moon with craters only calloused hands could read
she, they said
she bit her tongue with their teeth wrapped around her like spikes

here I am to tell you that I am not she, I am not your word or prayer or curse. I will no longer let you confine to the the lower-case, huddled down, back room existence of she.

I am I, Me, Woman.

I am.
may, 2014.
lady lazarus
Written by
lady lazarus  23/near the sea
(23/near the sea)   
   MoVitaLuna, Hayleigh, Rj and ---
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