Monday, October 17, 2016

With the Guillotine Down & The Body, A Prayer: On Recovery [two poems]


With the Guillotine Down

I am a broken-headed woman, holding heartache in my hands.
I am not trying to be pretty.
What use is mascara with the guillotine down?

I am not the story they have made of me
From the small slice
They got off their blade:

Whore.

Selfish.

Ungrateful.

Fake.

Stupid.

Not enough.

Too much.

I can write different words. 
Tell myself new stories until 
I believe them.

The Body, a Prayer

I am an exquisitely patterned daughter of loss.

I try not to stir my coffee too fast.
I try not to shush the chattering women.
Hear them as birds about their business.
Let the bee sit on my ring.
Let my morning become our morning.

I do not know what happens next.

We all need to pray.
And we all have different ways.

I pray by my borrowed bed:
May I meet the moment without seeking to over determine it.
May I sink into the center of this swelling broken and be healed.

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