Wild Woman

I am not fit for sunlight
I was made for clouds
and madeleines
and the kind of sweet nostalgia
that sings

It was never truth I wanted,
but beauty
the sum of her stems and curves
the ecstasy of her lines, her heaves, and her sighs
bare bones
the turning of a season
that bears her tears
with the grace of gold September

undressed metaphor
cross-stitch of a leaf
fallen bird
red sky
I hunt for a skeleton of fire
I lust for the savagery of now

I could tear a man from my lips like a curse
I suffer to be carnal
to live without delusion
Do you?
If I gave you my hand, would you touch me?
Light that cigarette.
I am that girl.

I want to unravel the earth with my feet—
to speak with my soul or not at all—
My darling, I will mark you with my scent
eyes like cruel moons
my pen skims the curve

*The first stanza of this poem was initially published in December 2017 as “Untitled V.” I’ve since reworked it and deleted the original, much shorter post.

11 thoughts on “Wild Woman

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