You are not the woman
who talks of rape in giant art,
who makes us squirm and wish
we had not ordered gumbo.
You give and take hearts
daily under a vow of
slow silence.
But you can't keep such faith.
So you fill a circle of
open hearts with only talk,
and stony, sickly talk,
You take the night out.
You are not the woman
like the things you say.
You sit quiet in your home,
saying good morning as you slip into bed
to your lostboys the world over.
10-30-08
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