317.
So what if her skirt is made of
flowers
his skin was made of ocean
people grow old with what they hold
all that holding hurts
pain of a violin how can I sing with
something in my head
the pale arm that calms me so many
nights
all a step away from mania
where does the sound come from you
rub on your strings
consider the pain of all I give you
is all forgiving blue light of the
other
fills the whole body the way sound
fills the ears
only this and nothing else.
319.
The bowl of night beleaguered me
then airless dawn we read about in
books
written by frustrated selfish young
men
there is always air enough for women
even poor Salome here I can breathe!
but night
had other plans and other selfish men
the one who wouldn’t kiss her one who
killed for kissing
o it is strange to be a woman in this
world
to have made all this then see it
turn against you
boy by boy until the mean old men
enslave you
I wish I could do something to change
or help
but I’m a habit man mechanical like
all the rest.
