Girls tilled the earth

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I wonder now

what happens when we grow over

the time we planned into an unknown future

you lost your baby fat, angular and drawn

pinched from the hunger of war

the masculinity of certain girls

who can carry off strong chins in their twenties

male inheritance flaming in visage

lends them the strength to become hard

for the sons who were not present

it was girls tilled the earth

scraping their legacies furrowed with dirt

to inherit freedom outside mystique

where judgement lay omnipresent

how the worth of plain faced women belies

the fire in their belly

I didn’t want it enough

to leave behind the soil and its

deep sonorous calm

because I grew content

for some that’s poison

but the fevered mind

lusts for silence

she will paint her room yellow

climb behind wallpaper

rather than survive nearly

in a room of grinding egos

some of us just want to watch morning dew

transform into steam and rise thermally

evaporating pinches of magic

staring into the silhouetted trees

nursing sorrow like a sudden cold snap

kills the large plants in the garden

despite their deep roots

and look there!

the young tree you planted only last fall

survives

 

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Whole

degas-woman-at-the-window-007The loon sang out of season

and she bed her reason

wetting sheets with her angst

for who among the outside world

enfolded her as you had?

they say it takes just a moment

you can never go back

there, it was that instant

when you rested in my arms

and nothing else mattered

you asked, was it the temper of day

or mood of furnishing night

but it was neither my love

it was the weight of your head

against my rising chest

which had stood dormant and empty

for as long as I breathed stale air

comprising bone fragments dry as old tears

until you came and filled me

with your familiarity and nectar

pollinating wasteland

as if that’s what I had been searching

in my wool socks with holes in

when I squinted out of the kitchen door

unevenly framed with draft leaching in

at birds picking the blossom from peas

tracing their growth, tied in rows

much like humans let themselves become

I saw the russet fox stalk out

proud and wild

he did not require straightening or string

to mold him to his burnished lament

his paws were blackened with coal

leaving indents of darkness in twilight

mocking the sobriety of obedient eyes

cloistered behind their rule books

chalky and calcified

the fox out shone even the gloom

misting the window blue

and first light

ardent and bright

looking something like you

as you turn in sleep

toward me

like a movement of

symmetry

joining emptiness

whole