The Poetry Marathon

These days anything seems likely to happen–

Donne’s star would be caught and all

mandrakes declared  parents.

Even now I kept hoping you would

finally be human—realize others bleed

and your myopathy healed.

But self is such a cruel master

and all the sacrificed years

flow like silt from the Nile

After springtime rains.

In Crete I walked along the shoreline

Contemplating the fate of it’s people

Bull gods and dancing

A stronghold against sensibility

I too could paint my breasts

Beauty displayed to the world

Focus my attention on  the delicate 

Folds of fabric in my skirt

In Crete I walked along the shoreline

Only–I was never really there.

In 27 years I can count on my fingers 

The number of times I’ve seen you 

Family really wasn’t convenient 

Until we matured and began lives alone

You hunt for arguments in my writing 

Reminding me that you still are older 

Since age is all you have to hold onto

In the wasteland of separation you nourished.

Glasses removed we see

the person behind the defenses

Weakness of sight is a vulnerability

no one praises

Perfection is a heavy burden

eventually everyone tires

Exposed, human, struggling

for a brief second we know

the soul within the corpus.

I still dream of an unfettered life

free

decades later I’m still imprisoned in an image

crafted

by others for profit.

Bare and vulnerable I posed

hoping

I could be seen as someone

human.

The ‘perfect’ woman is really a

man

But all I wanted was to be a

mother.

Hello! This is my first marathon and I am so very excited! I studied writing at Kingston University, London, am originally from Colorado/Kansas, and I now live in Portugal with my husband and soon our mini-human.

I introduced myself on the Facebook page yesterday, but I wanted to make sure I had the hang of WordPress before tomorrow 🙂

Can’t wait to get started!