My intelligence beguiles me, makes me
literal and monotonous, a bear who
cannot snarl, and therefore thinks
in a controlled and pleasant manner.
I am not this bear.
I graze in a field of drunken ranting
where my poppies and dahlias
bloom like gifted veins
full of wine or blood, or both.
I am a horse of many colors.
My body is a burden unto the
unseeable part of me,
it's all a mystery for the ages.
And it is lost on you, my beautiful one.
I am the paradigm of a menagerie.
In visions I live and lose my life,
claw by claw, and my wildness
eludes me, but my femininity
is so easy and abundant.
The cage is unlocked.
The loose girls roam free.
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