A Day for Women

Blown, shredded, pieced
They like razor bladed grass
 had withered
For them, a day was attributed;
A day for my mother,
A day for my teacher,
A day for the ladies on the fields with hay sewn baskets
Chanting, rivers running beneath their toes
A day for those in front of the mirror
For those who are behind the mirror
A day for those who have no mirrors but
Wake up flawless,
Bees in their hair, dirt beneath the nails,
And a few potatoes for countless open mouths
A day for those in patches,
Patches of need, or bruises or failings of men.
A day for those on desks,
and those beneath the florescent,
Dissecting the pain away--
with frail fingers painting out of blood a Mona Lisa.
A day, just one day was coined,
For wombs,
For breasts,
For nurturing hands
For rough skin
For raising minds,
One day for not being a man,
Triumph! Triumph some would shout!.

A day was coined for them,
Myself included,
A day for us was named: Congratulations you are a woman.
The world says like it is an achievement
To negate and include a man:
Inside you,
Beside you,
Behind you (quiet possibly)
Today the world reminds you, this day is yours:
Yours to exercise shopping bag lifting
To grab a medal for heaving emotions
To glaze a smile for a blaring dish
To dance to the melodies of nocturnal cries--
and it is yours to blow out a the minds with
Your talk, or walk or your brain.
Today is yours, so smile, you woman.

Passivity

State of the body,
State of the brain,
State of the bodily- brain;
The brainy-body
State of the day: inactive.

Violence

Red,

Trickling and sliding

Out of the frame. 

If one tumbles...

The pot whistles, four times,
A Reminder of Thomas Edison!
Edison! Hateful physics--
It whistles again-- enough to cut her thoughts out
They needn't bleed, they'd generate new limbs, new eyes.
Now the mushrooms smell of oregano, cream and cheese
A tinge of the forbidden fruit, forbidden fruit smells sweeter:
Like starry summer nights, like newly baked cake, like smiles.
In the room, outside of her the laughter rises,
In the room, the subject buds out-
or flowers,
or nestles
or day dreams of exotic land
Exotic can be us, the exotic can be what's not us--
She doesn't fully hear and comments
She hears and no meaningful comments or thoughts are needed tonight
Relax, let go, smile:
The wine turns,
Like a dervish it moves
Round and round: silent with a million laughs

They tunnel toward her
She prays and vows to make it count
No one hears her, she talks to herself
Now she remembers ancestors
Making their way around soup
With a stone at the bottom of the pot
But life is not always that hard.

Around her they smile,
They offer a train of pinky fingers
Pinky-promise chain;
If one tumbles everyone falls
In the cold, the petals of darkness fume
Moss of Greek gods;
Lighter, airy, higher
The rest falls into sight,
If one tumbles everyone falls
The rest fall out of sight,
She fades out on tiptoes and dancers 'pointe'
in a musical living room,
She stands to wonder, how like a long letter, like promises and fruit on trees:
If one tumbles
Everyone
Falls.

an image floats out of my head...

Tapping, like dance

Dancing, like Wordsworth daffodils

I give birth to words

You sleep in my poems tucked softly between the vowels

Covering up only by a few syllables. 

Inspired

A refugee's tear
An armless photograph;
Life is about perspective, not prospective timeless time
A tune they played,
A beat they cracked
A plea for humanity, for us
That was all they lived for, a proof of action against other people's preaching
To second chances and to tears shed on empty theater seats
They rose, she among them
A standing ovation to ideal
Life.

Illustrations are copyrights of artist George Butler, seen on exhibition at the University of Warwick 2-3-2014.

Words

Shaped;

Words are made from letters

Fire, hail and a tinge of Holy water

Mine are made of syllables, heartbeats and crunched leaves.