Monday, January 31, 2011

Can a Leopard Change Its Spots?

There are the whispers
That speak of nothing
And these are the whispers of neglect
There are the rumblings of emptiness
The black rumblings
Of annihilation

There are leopard spot prints
And there are true leopard spots
And there are true leopards
And pretend leopards
And zoo leopards
And here is my cat
Who is no leopard
Though she moves stealthily and quiet
And her claws have their sting
And her wildness untamed

I have officially grown tired
Officially mind you
Of trying to ‘fit in’ to whatever it is
I’m supposed to be
Wife?  Mother, even?
Woman.  Banshee. Barbie.
Witch. Traitor. Instigator.
Angel  beauty  whore
Proselytizer  soothsayer  ribbonweaver 
Gate keeper  sorrow cleanser

And so what is One next?
Without all my labels and tools
Without my bits of lace and jewels
Without my hair my lipstick my socks without my
Dairies with padlocks
Without my reason and commitment
And legal wrangling and teachings and learnings
And comings and goings
And earnings and yearnings
Without my thoughts stopped up my breathing
Flowing without my nothingness
My light my shadow
My sorrow my fright
Without my question

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