Violence domesticated Woman. Pot Roast Sundays tasted better prepared with broken ribs. He loved her hair so much that he’d take greedy handfuls. I still see her, slumped over the stove, cooking Sunday dinner, bruised, and bleeding into boiling pots. Split lips were all that wept in front of him. She saved her tearsContinue reading Violence Domesticated
See it, the beautiful ball Poised in the toyshop window, Rounder than sun or moon. Is it red? is it blue? is it violet? It is everything we desire, And it does not exist at all. Non-existent and beautiful? Quite. In the rounding leap of our hands, In the longing hush of air, WeContinue reading A Ball Is for Throwing-Adrienne Rich
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in. I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions. I have given my name and myContinue reading Tulips-Sylvia Plath
The difference between poetry and rhetoric is being ready to kill yourself instead of your children. I am trapped on a desert of raw gunshot wounds and a dead child dragging his shattered black face off the edge of my sleep blood from his punctured cheeks and shoulders is the only liquid for miles andContinue reading Power-Audre Lorde
I keep my knife so sharp that even slicing celery is easy peasy— none of that skin left frayed at the edges. My crisp cuts are cleaner than hers ever were; and I dice the carrots much quicker than she ever could do, even while counting all of the times she’d combed myContinue reading A Mother’s Hands
Teacher of femininity, unbashful was she; saw Mother naked often enough, and couldn’t help but admire her small breasts and well-manicured mons pubis. She’d bought me a training brah adorned with ah pretty pink bow, and my own hedge trimmers when I came of the age— showed me how to shave my pits andContinue reading But What About My Brain?
(Kindra) Stay the blade lodged in my back— let the tissue heal and seal the covenant. I am Woman, unrecumbent, and daggers only steel my skin. (Lois) the waters struck the cliff and there i was, chalked upon its rocky face. sharp heavy things chipped like woodpeckers, struck their pointed heads against my crags, but stillContinue reading In Her Element: Lois E. Linkens & Kindra M. Austin