Tuesday, June 24, 2014



I am ravenous
(no second guessing)
learning who I am inside this feast
this beast
this breath
struggling to write
I hear my belly moan
what is her famous song?

downloading the exhaustion
the broken pieces
the sewn up threads
my boot straps are up
my bags are packed
for a quieter life

a place that feels like that first sip
the warmth softening me
inside that tea
she’s a muse for all of me

I want more of less
turn down the volume
slow the bus
oil up the joints
lets sit ravenous for the breath
ravenous to take off the masks
unveil, make room, stare at your face in the mirror for a long time

pregnant with producing, being, raising, growing,
cooking it all up
this stew of motherhood
ravenous to try it all on
ravenous to let it simmer for years
the fire will take care of the fat
I will try the innards, create a shape and call it a day

ravenous for this morning- this paper, this pencil, this limoges tea cup
stirring me round and round
ravenous for a chat
slowing down to let go
teaching the gospel before I know the lines
faking it before I am making it
sitting in lotus with my hips on fire
little bonfires in the bank accounts of my sciatica
my bones trying to tell me the story
in a language I only hear as pain
maybe its longing
maybe all I will ever know how to do in this life is write,
make a tea and breathe

I want to invite kindness to every party
let go of my expectations
I want to move my body in a way that says: I love you, I love every single molecule of you, I want to travel the world with you and the seven seas with you so that I might get a bit lighter
lose the barnacles that hold me here, the shackles of an agenda put here way before I got here--- trying to transcribe the language, decipher the font, a map nailed to those innards floating around me between the boiling bubbles and the toiling troubles

so sick & tired of sucking at this teet
to look for no mother in the room
all the babies in wide wood bowls
free to roam on cake plates
in their cozy vessels
where they are seen and heard, seen and heard, seen and heard!
when will that musical be over?

I have the playbill in hand turning to the page entitled
‘how to make a life’
reaching for some plain m&m’s
I sink down in my chair and
wait for the second act to begin.

1 comment:

  1. Greatness in that poem, girl. Greatness. Love it.