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Water is a Woman's Name

So many of not many

No memory

Of why

Why not

Be something else

Not a better half

But another half

Of that which was broken.

The hem of a skirt

Golden thread undone

Wrapped thick

Then, thicker

Dough rising

I cannot reach the vacant moon

On such an empty stomach

Stars are not fire

They are tears

The only water

The universe still claims.

I wanted

What men wanted

When men wanted


I gave

What men asked for

When men asked from


I chose

But not their choices

I promised

But not their promises

Stone cracks

Muscle rips

And scars must both

Be traced from

The before and the after.

They only believe my cruelty

When it cuts their own skin

Ignored is the knife’s edge

Each prick

Becomes a gash



Into myself

We have already spoken.

Pull the stitches out.

I’m tired.

No more questions.

Untie the knots.

I’m tired.

No more wrong answers.

Start over from the beginning.

I’m tired.

Tensions always break.

Scars always mark.

Battles in our bones.

History on our skin.

But, the water comes.

It comes.

It pours.

It washes.

It births.

It lives even when






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