Deathwish (2019 edit)

If I were a man, you’d
call me brother. We’d
drink beer sing songs read poetry
late into the night

But I have a body that makes
you look. Legs
arse
tits
babyface symmetry plump lips and that thing
you have knows no language — only
a wombwish
drownwish
cavewish
deathwish

You might
be the man in my dream — the one
about the old house with books
paintings guitars cats
friends —

but the woman in my dream
isn’t me.

She’s the cushion woman
the carpet woman
the send you hearts on facebook woman
The sari woman
the sandalwood patchouli woman
the bells on her fingers rose vanilla lavender butterfly tattoo woman

She’s the tongue woman
the womb woman
the open up and make room woman
the overflowing cup woman
the boneless chicken salt tarragon lemon your name her breath woman

But I’m the
cut you down to size woman the
right back at ya woman the
eye to eye hand to hand side by side woman the
boots woman the bare
truth woman the knife
and leather belt woman the don’t
mess with or else woman.
I’m not

the soft-poemed
mystical
gamelan
herbal
heartshaped
gauzy
low-cut
plush
scented woman
lighting the candles
arranging the cushions.

If I were a man, you’d
call me brother. We’d
drink beer sing songs read poetry
late into the night

From my book “The emptied bridge”, coming soon from Mulla Mulla Press. The original version of this poem was published in 2010.

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