Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisMore Like This
Do not assume (if I hold the door for you),
that I am making a statement
about your inabilities
to open the door for yourself.
If you hold it for me,
I'll say 'thankyou'.
Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),
that I am underestimating
your earning capacity
as a woman.
If you invite me out for a meal,
Do not assume (if I defend your rights),
that I am belittling
the attempts that you have made
to defend your rights yourself.
If you defend my rights,
I'll consider you human.
A Sanctuarythere is somethingMore Like This
self-contained pockets of joy
amidst a grungy room
in a forest of linoleum
plastic tables with dirt in the grooves
and a permeating sense of beige
the monotone buzz of pressures and suppression of reactions - human reactions
they softly soothe
a tonic citron smoothing ragged patches
existing (with(IN)side) of a lovely orange universe
knowing only the smell and taste and feel of it
relying on it
as if it might be a crucifix
or an energy-absorbing shield
quite possibly the hand of Mother Nature
carding through your hair
pulling threads and fibers to uncover something sacred
to be held in your hand
a soft-nosed bullet that pierced your father's thigh (and lost the battle)
a geode, a locket, the first arrowhead your mother ever found (her favorite)
a lock of your grandmother's hair (still auburn and beautiful)
except that this treasure
maintains its own impermanence.
and when you go, your fingers are stained
with some bright, a
WiggleYou sit there, so involved in your gameMore Like This
buzzing with the tiny movements of game-focus
in your bright plastic sunbeam
it's almost like you're waiting
for me to notice.
Your back is turned like a little golden tombstone
neon elastic pink and blue
of your bathing suit
stabbed by green grass
wispy hair floating
in an impromptu ponytail.
I'm finally standing right behind you
you don't turn around.
But it's all right
I don't want to interrupt your game.
A small pool on the edge of a hill
Sitting on an incline
water sloshes out of your aqua fishplace
toy boats floating
invisible sailors praying to the little sea god
who goes to bed by eight
after her bath
Floater balls soak up
the glassy turquoise
into a clay orange and cornflower blue porous heart
you pick it up and squeeze the life out of it
and the heart stops beating
only to begin again when you drop it
a miracle in the middle of nowhere.
You slither away
with glee I can't remember now.