Chapter OneAs the sun rose brilliant in the eastern skies, the smells of a cook-fire hung in the humid summer air, the forest glade catching the sun's light and letting it filter down to the ground below, where a young woman, scarcely fifteen, fried pork fat and toasted a few chunks of the hard loaf of bread she had stolen from the kitchens as she left. Good riddance, she thought bitterly. No more being the pig girl, or worse yet, the servant to a knight's pampered daughters. For the first time in her fifteen years (at least, she thought she was fifteen, as her master and mistress had never mentioned her real age), she was free. Now, where to go next? Thankfully, it was summer, however it wasn't safe to remain here, as she was sure that even in the dead of night those at the manor called her name for assistance, and she never responded. That would never lead to being a good sign, nor would a missing horse or food be one, either. &
nightpoints of lightbright in a black-blue skyYou made themYou, who know the hairsYou, who breathe out lifeYou, who opens up Your word to us.yet, in the great void,You madepoints of lightbright in a black-blue skyYou made these sowe might notfear the night
Elegy for Feminism PastI ain't Mrs Cleavermaking perfect pot roast by dinner timevacuuming the shag in pearlsNor am I a bra burnerremoving my attachmentfor support in a funereal pyreNor am I Wonder Womanlooking glamourous as I revel in the bondage of menwith my lasso of truthI am a modern womanseeking a modern manOne who will hold doors openOne who will not complain that I make as much as heOne who will rejoice thatwe are no longer under the thumbof our fathers'orof our mothers'strange, revealing legacy
Like siren's callLike siren's call sleepBeckons me to rest tempestTossed head to dream.