Girl

Poetry

She uses her sing song voice

to love me

in all my frailty

even when I am menace

and shout to the veiny sky

furious and dangerous.

 

Even when I crumple

so faced with my own wishes-gone-askew

smeared with the mud of desire

even when I have to stay and she has to go,

she can love me.

 

She is the fire queen

ice maidens will fall to her torch

and she dreams she has a million

fabric squares to smooth her nose

as she sleeps guarded by

the curled cat.

 

In all this egg shell world

where the very gravity

wants broken ovals on the stone

where pieces fall fractured triangles of

that curve that’s in her smile

I tell her: she has broken me and

made me whole.

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