toe stomping lit cigarette
regenerating like the woman i suppose i am
stumbling all over myself
fucking up
absorbing ink
wanting to split open
deliver
unhinge
hatch.
it's almost like breathing.

                                              enter june.  the girl came early
                                              said she wanted to puncture the sky,
                                              reach up into nothing & sketch eyelids
                                              onto the dreaming.  said she wanted to watch
                                              six tiny stars explode on her thigh,
                                              gussy them up in homespun dresses and then
                                              sit back and stare as they twirled in their
                                              tatters. she said she put it there. between her legs.
                                              fed it.  says she will choose when to let go
                                              of the scream.

in the beginning,
i kept watch while you came down
beautifully. always, always
with amniotic glow & star quake & shine
& sudden introduction to light.
we wore our hallelujah dresses three days
in a row. hair undone. I held my breath & your hand
underneath my elbow
                       just in case.

                                             1997.  i wrote the boy a poem
                                              little girl lettler style thinking that
                                              my insides might appear intricate
                                              splattered on white & lined.
                                              he said i had a thing for telling stories
                                              for taking something plain & making it
                                              beautiful. dressing it up in color & frills
                                              the way that only a girl can.
                                              he said he loved me.
                                              he didn't.
                                              he left in search of something more
                                              than everything i was.

toe stomping lit cigarette
reaching inside
uncovering
regenerating like the girl i've always been
fucking up
believing

it's almost like being.