Viewing entries tagged
women writers


—after sylvia plath's 'contusion'


the girths of the seasoned girls hold secrets

bare, oily expositions in subtropical sun

the past's darkening repercussions sub rosa


what was rose swiftly goes to lilac and lost denim,

in a week will be chartreuse, ending in fawn

creation myths

rebirth, at least five days a week: rebirth

success is a process

chasing grotesque creation: a safe version of self

                    semi reflective of

                    the daily naivety of—

suspicion always far too late,

                    and the consolation confirmed to self, denied to witnesses

—‘being’ objectified, ‘being’ wanted

with strong voices, unwanted hands

                    relentlessly dull words add

                    vulgar images, violent reactions

                    each enunciation singed to brain

—‘being’ a brat, ‘being’ a bitch, ‘being’ a bent daisy

                    stand me up in pencil thin glass tubes

                    imagined thirsty for your salvation

i can’t be your vitruvian woman

but i will stand as one

cartwheeling unfairly

righteously chasing

vindication, replacing

                    your bred-in filth

in the flesh of my page


squinting unappreciatively in a rhombus

of evening sunlight on a worn down corner

waiting to cross four lanes in forty seconds

she squats bare-legged

with surplus luggage

hidden fees taped to her lashes.