Poetess II: Dedicated to Aurora Antonovic
Canadian songbird, you shimmy a swath
through all the devices of my wanton
escapisms that bind, as a cloth
of crimson character, wine and blood.
I drink once a month, to understand
woman’s pain, the soft stigmata
made insurmountably grand
to the mind of men and monsters.
I smell blood on the sand
salivate and hunger, to bound
beyond all primal contrivance
and become enlightened in deprivation
Oh, to suffer so exquisitely, I smile
knowing now the torture of woman’s while
(previously published in Write Away Poetry)