Friday, October 5, 2012

164.

It is easier to speak
of the things we do not need.

It is impossible for me to be with a person
for years, without eventually becoming the diver
in a cage. Even if there are no teeth for miles.
Even if the ocean sings to me.

I would not be a good mother.
Leaving is ingrained in the nature
of my body. My veins may very well be
the braille of a map.

My grandmothers used to tell me
in soft agreement, to only marry a man
that would set me
on fire. I don't believe in such torrid heat,
but I sleep with rose quartz
under my pillow.

No comments: