Trajectory – Candice Louisa Daquin

12bTime only haunts you once

hardened in amber the fly immortal

a draft to whisk away sorrow, in our lives we sleep on our hope

for to survive you must look to your dreams

dancing behind double glass, she turns at the sound

seeing the one whom she loves, watching her perpetual motion

until that broken moment and the dance halts on blackened soles

unexpectedly and predicted both

like the slung free fall of an arrow will surely pierce

even armor, given right trajectory

past emotions fall imprecise from curling branches

the corridor in your mind takes a step on mustard carpet

all hushed by sway of time, leaching her bounty

youthful enough to crane perfect neck against marble bath

arching, pleasure, the slow tickle of absence like a flutist

produces from silvered mouth, the breath of music

a chance of rain sound-proofing slip of movement

time only haunts you once

prisoner of the war of words said and not

til I let you go, once and for all, softly the first

forever it felt, walking out the door

steel beneath my own terms

shaking like bakers

raising their dough before it is morning

and you

never who you were

growing wings

stepping from edges

floured hands

pressed together

leaving imprint

where no scouring can chase

the outline you made

Tribe – Candice Louisa Daquin

Hold still

it won’t hurt

and if it does

then it’s your fault anyway

you’re lucky to be getting anything

if it were up to me, I would leave you where they found you

hunched in a mess of splayed arms and legs, barely moving

you must have asked for it somehow

they all do

Hold still

it will hurt

because for ages women have sought

to repair their broken parts, find a way to piece together

those patches of their souls

only to be berated and shamed

hobbled, judged, vilified

burnt a second time with stronger brand

what is it within humanity, wants to further damage?

the survivor

hold on

it shouldn’t hurt

we are creatures of the fall, we are not fallen, we are good

women ride alongside men in equal canter

when one of us is hurt, it hurts us all

love heals the torn soul

in a world that does not exist, I would claim a dream

no violence, no rape, no distortion of events

but that world is far from here

hold on

some of us stand next to you, helping

as you feel you cannot go on

you can

as you feel you are going to give up

you won’t

you are a woman of us all

you share our strength

we form a circle together and hold hands

there is no damnation if you refuse permission to damn

there is only the power of sisterhood

hold on to your tribe

the only shame is when we don’t stand

together

 

Disciple of love – Candice Daquin

When I met you, I had no tears

When you left me, I had too many

They didn’t stop

Though all the experts

On saline tear production

Proclaimed they would

Miss Daquin do not fear, they said

You will simply dry up, just wait

For a hot flash

Or a cold night

I told them

I have both

As for the cold night

That is now etched in ivy crept stone

Who thought before middle age

I’d be an old maid searching shelves for other parts of thrown-away women?

With no touch, no kiss, no arms wrapped around this

Hurt and lonely soul of water and menses

Snap out of it, my dance teacher said

You can

Have sex with cigarette smoking strangers

Learn self emulation

Or eat hot chili sauce with three layers of lipstick

And if you dance as gracefully as you talk

Well … Whose to stop the admirers?

She

Was a bird-like creature

Who would be tap dancing at ninety

But I

Was a disciple of love

And so the idea of swapping bodily fluids

With a thin-lipped voodoo stranger

Found on matchmaker site

Or a familiar face

Sitting by me in coffee shop sharing saucer as ashtray

Or lonely friend

Turning acquaintance to waxy want

Did not appeal

I had no more desire than if

I were asked to receive a house guest

Who didn’t wash

I was already

In my mouth of youth

An island of one woman

Yes I said

How did you know I am smarting? Convulsing?

Even I wasn’t aware

Except afterward thinking

When the school playground tasted of coal

And red fences were unchallenged

The way other children were already sulphur and minerals

How I seemed to be

Strange and boneless in comparison

Considering that great gendered emptiness

Swallowed in partial payment for not fitting jelly mould

I’ll take the rest of you, when you succumb

Did I mention I was a disciple of love?

And you, my ruination, supplied exact temperature

In everything you didn’t know you did

Filling the yelling bones of my chest

How could I have let you?

When I knew you were bred on cruel

Because cruelty I was used to

It seemed a still, varnished, normal

I trusted it more

Than kindness which would be snatched

Away like a lacquer fan

Broken into its false pieces

Only to take another form and try again

I think of those times

They are thicker than my fidgeting blood

All the answers were there

Blatant and dripping

And still I walked into you

Still I walked into you

Still I walked into you

I Knew My Faults-Sarah Doughty

“I knew my faults.
And they always stared

back at me in the mirror.”

As long as I can remember, I knew my faults. They were engraved in my flesh, repeated so often that even I saw nothing else. I knew every one. Believed every one. I was every one.
I knew my faults when I was toddling around, learning how to speak, how to walk, how to cower.
I knew my faults when I began school. How I wasn’t smart enough, not social enough. How I was a target in school. And at night.
I knew my faults in the dark. I learned my best to do what was required of me, but I was never quite good enough. I knew what my hands needed to do, how my lips should stay soft, or how my hips were supposed to move with the right timing. After awhile, I knew those moves just enough to get by.

I knew my faults. And they always stared back at me in the mirror.

© Sarah Doughty

I Knew My Purpose-Rachel Finch

I knew my purpose
when little legs were
thrust apart,
foreign hands moulding my body
into a better fit for themselves,
shaping my form and my future.
I knew my purpose when they
took their turns and the skin on
my face didn’t burn beneath the salt,
but soaked it into every pore with a
remembering.
I knew my purpose when the
bruises painted my inner thighs
and even my silent lips couldn’t
hide the gospel.
I knew my purpose when the tears fell and
only the birds were listening.
Shades of hurt patterned my flesh and I was
already living in the knowing.
I would grow wings and beat them to the
sound of every whimper of a sister
and I would turn the betrayal into a war cry
for peace and justice

I Knew My Fate-1Wise Woman

 
I knew my fate when
Enraged voices penetrate
Vulnerable
Eyes closed tight
Dreaming of locks
Picked and set free
I knew my fate when
Words embedded
Forever me
Followed by scenes
Violent
Seen and unseen
I knew my fate when
Heart carried weight
Haunted
Day and night
Searching for savior
Bury the burden
I knew my fate when
Reflection revealed
Strength intrinsic
Click
An open door
Running no more


 

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.