Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Ancient Herstory

Thru blood sunsets laid
on their backs, legs spread wide,
to the snapping sparks of the el train;
it speaks to me with her voice.

In the parade and phony pagentry of
Michigan Avenue, along the lakefront
in the public places;
it speaks with her voice.

The white-capped lake, wind whipped
trees & the endless debate of birds
& highschoolkids in the heat;
speak to me with her voice.

On this, the first bright day
this year, I am free
to agree that she adulted me.
We, as two, cocooned; & then a
longlovely metamorphosis,
into a mercifully gentle,
almost imperceptible decline.
It was long, it
lasted forever.
We, as two, emerged into winter anew;
changed & uncomfortable,
unrecognizable & alien, grew into
new skins,
new abilities.
I would not know her if I saw her.

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