'..she is the great northern gate of life and death.'
Women are not cruel, we are wise; courageous,
instinctually gracious.
It usually has blossoms at this time of year,
beautiful cherry blossoms..
...And so she severed her modesty, sharply, sweetly,
severely.
And that is where her blossoms now rest,
right in the deep of her tiny, tender chest.
''I never asked for this,'' she said
''but I must have wanted it, for why am I bleeding?''
*
We're just little girls deep down
tender women with frozen hearts.
But little girls aren't all that sweet, deep down.
We are primal, instinctive,
primitive little beasts;
hiding our hairs beneath our delicate sheets.
And we are never truly hidden beneath flimsy ridden veils,
for underneath, our curling tongues lye triggered,
eager to present a language,
that even we no longer understand.
Rid your veil, unfurl thy tongue,
and present yourself to the woman, you truly long to become.
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