Tag Archives: writing
my child
Your eyes, half-hidden under a mound of hair, peek out with curiosity and wonder. Advertisements
dance with death
Twirl me round with wide, wild steps. Never let go. photo: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Phenakistoscope_3g07690b.gif
Stigmata
My bloodstained boots Carry me through doors Into foreign lands And hostile territories. Generations And generations Of ancestors At the mercy of their cells Follow closely behind.
Reflection in a Mirror at the Mayflower Hotel
As your arms wrap tightly around me, I wonder if your face had the same expression when you hugged your wife after French toast with powdered sugar.
damage control
I know a man who lives outside the bounds of marriage all the while claiming loyalty to his wife.
becoming
I have never felt more whole than now, despite coming through a year in which my body has been cut into multiple times and parts have been removed.
Warrior Woman by Peter Gaumond
No blade can excise your fierce femininity, no illness withstand the cleansing of your tears. Wounds are swallowed in the embrace of your openness. Sing forth my priestess of transformation.