I like being a woman: plain and simple

“I like being a woman,”

said me to God during a prayer today.

The weight of my breasts, vagina, and belly

has not become less heavy,

no.

However, this ox’s collar

with pails of sloshing rock and water

on either side,

roosting atop my female

has loosened.

A new shape has broken from

in which the linear crosspiece

moves toward my body.

Nails sputter onto the ground,

wood splinters and snaps

and iron warms and cools.

The full pails christen me

as water decants and rock tumbles.

My body feels,

eats,

drinks,

holds

them all

Yet before the verbs take precedence

Every drop and mineral ask,

“May we?”

Un

fathomable, agonizing

but

I strangely and with au fait, yield.

Simultaneously,

the collar finds my grooves,

my protrudes,

my excludes

and gently frames,

accentuates,

and protects them

Yet before it takes precedence

It asks,

“May I?”

The condition though,

is I must look at where each shred and shard

is placed

The touch of the wood and iron

on my body

engenders archaic librettos, fading handwriting, and familiar nausea

I timber,

back

and forth

like a forsaken oak but,

I do not collapse.

I spread deeper

in

to

the glib, yet

still

repulsive,

necessary soil.

Thus far,

these images, “Lord,”

I say, “are awkward, nonsensical, and maybe misfitted”

Gisele, Charlotte, Fidel, Rush

seem far from my wet, woodworking contraption

that is swept over and through me

revealing the glory of my female

Nevertheless, I cannot escape this pride

rushing up and through me

running down and anchoring me

I am woman, yes hear me roar, yes

and watch me love and enjoy my portions

and yours.

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Filed under beauty, le regard, Uncategorized

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