tree of life
as any woman will admit,
knowing too much
is the true curse of our sex
fears she won’t utter
assault her thoughts
you can see it,
maybe, if she makes
eye contact
it’s likely, though,
that she won’t
no fruit to tumble
from a tree of knowledge
the earth
littered
with the illusion of
understanding
on a plain
vast and indifferent
the tree of life waits
older than the myth
solitary and strong
within the space between
the seconds of her life
god’s curse means nothing
slammed against reality
hope born of pain
posted by Melissa at 8:35 AM
2 Comments:
This is my favorite poem of yours. There is a tightness, a uniformity, a flow that I am still trying to explain. At no point does the poem waver or waffle. It moves straight to the end. Absolutely wonderful. Your dance between the literal/realistic and the figurative/metaphysical/mythic is worthy of imitation. Wonderful.
within the space between
the seconds of her life
god’s curse means nothing
slammed against reality
hope born of pain
There is nothing I can say to add to this. I am proud to know this poet, this woman.
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