Tuesday, March 11, 2014


so long as her arms tattooed and bulky
swung clear of her small drum breasts
the beat of her heart stayed soaring unruly
through the thin cotton print of her dress

why else, they asked, would she do what she 
does, why else would she be the way she is
her laughter boiled to the top of the water
left in radicalized, feminized bliss.

there was no he next to the sex of her
no woman either and no mentor to raise
just the mirror that told her what was left of her
in the blue fractal kill of her gaze

i am what i am, she whispered in red lips
i am what i was, she swung with her hips
i am what i will be, she screamed like a freak
i am what i choose, she said every week

every week she chose and every week 
the dragon eggs in her hand grew hot
her babies were born on Christmas morn
between her legs into a black burnished pot

no one understands me, she cooed to her blood
that's why i am what i am, she whispered to them
that's why i am what i was, she kissed their heads
that's why i am what i choose, she knotted her dreads

they called her crazy and hermaphrodite and sexless
they left her dead in the maze of her brain
but she changed the name and the prize 
left with babies between her thighs,

and never looked back again.
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