under my therapist’s guidance,
I switch chairs to talk
to my inner predator,
learn more about it,
what to call her
where she started:
now, now,
listen to the guilt,
it’s talking,

my therapist gently

but it was the shame
that was mocking me:
this pervasive groan
that stopped me from owning
anything,or only owning
the ways I failed to amend
my obdurate behavior
that started from the moment someone demanded
I stay on all fours in my daybed,
and has never ended
so I keep ending up back there again
and again, cutting my hair and
hiding it behind the dollhouse
in an effort to masculate myself
to purpose.
we were talking about a meat-eater,
my inner lion,
who once ate her own diaphragm
during a pretty short famine
so sometimes
I can’t be trusted to navigate things
or come back from them,
alone or
in silence.

I decided to have some boundaries with the universe;
lined the edges of my bed with geranium and
lilac threads. my tub dripped nightly:
an altar of salt and
lavender sage.
watched my toes glide to the surface
by a dozen votives.
tease the cat
with little splashes at her nose.
my entire winter began to smell of spilled
rose hip oil and
diffused celestite.
the curtains shut tightly.
I could see the moon when I wanted
from my dining room table
or on a brisk walk
to pick up oranges and Earl Gray
for the morning.
rediscovered medicine in prayer and herb
and open mourning for my karmic retribution,
suddenly rectified,
suddenly deserved.
            do you deserve the good?

amethyst in my sock drawer and jasper
near the lamp. I hold
one shout in my throat
in an effort to continuously
subjugate myself.
protect myself from myself.
protect myself from himself.
watch the killer
waft in and out
without a discussion about what
really means
and just let it

                            I decided to get rid of my light and aventurine,

                                                   I calmly tell Genie.






Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s