I Knew My Stature – Aurora Phoenix

I knew my stature when I was a shrinking violet
wilting wallflower
hangdog hanging in the corner of the gym
stewing in the stench of pubescent sweat
and hurricanic hormonal surges
a bit too fleet of mind
and broad of hip
to be asked to dance.
I knew my stature when I was a shriveling teen
angularly angling
for acceptance in the seat of those size 4 jeans
gaunt of cheek and lean on ease
I nibbled on the knowledge
skinny girls get dated
while I wasted \wishing\ away.
I knew my stature when I was a curvaceous coed
unholstering my sexuality
like the black market weapon it was
filed down and ripe for the bidding
overpowered and unequipped for battled
shooting myself in the foot
greenhorn that I was.
I knew my stature when I was a birthing Bessie
nursing \wet and dry\
bequeather of sustenance and succor
repository of binkies, hugs and tissues
beneath notice as an independent woman
selling my soul for a closed bathroom door.
I knew my stature when I strode that shore
clove in rhythm
with the seething tides
shedding the skin
of a thousand judging serpents
one with the wilding waves
as they sing my siren song.

 

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Aurora Phoenix

I write as Aurora Phoenix. Nine months ago my world shattered. Unexpectedly and dramatically arrested, I have been incarcerated ever since, as I await the unbearably slow machinations of the system. Devoid of verbal communication that is unmonitored, pen and paper have served as my truest outlet for grief, fear and angst. Armed with toilet paper for intermittently copious tears, my motions experience and reflections are PaperMate poured. In this chapter of my life, I write.

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