Poetry Entry

July 13, 2009

Can we not count, if to count at all
on the black-n-white skies
of a Seattle Summer?

Here I am, but a week banded
to this foolish man that would have me,
even though I am a dimpled and exotic woman.

Temperaments go further than changes in weather
and sit happily in an excuse to be a woman.
Ahhh…to be a woman in this hour
would shame all the informal education
of the radical feminism I used to be fond of.

I am but a sham in the lamb’s clothing
and have nothing to write but this shabby un-rhymed poem.