Saturday, December 31, 2016

Damen= Women

Build three houses in a row
take one of them for the purpose of tonight's
bed-time tale

how the whale floats
overhead in the dim room
to make for a song, your vocal cords don't sing

cook enough meals to feed the same people
who are trying to cook for themselves
and failing at things that do not burn

live and fleshy, little hands
tiny fingers that insert themselves
into your palms

without realization, us,
damen, vessels of birth
guards to the doors of bedrooms

hiders of monsters, dealers with details
organizers, feeders, walkers, joggers
watchful eyes, ears, mouths that kiss

without telling, that sow,
appreciation; disregarded, this sense
of transformation, like pillars

damens, holder of earth
able to sleep on an air mattress and feed
on air, yet walk with the pride of nations
between two shoulders

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