I Wish I Wasn’t A Girl Who

She Pushed The Gardener Away And Called For Them. In Her Sleep She Had Seen Love. It Was Poisoning. It Was Possessing. Devouring. Or It Was Seven Pairs Of Boots Climbing Up The Stairs To Find Her.

Sometimes I Wanted To Peel Away All Of My Skin And Find A Different Me Underneath.

If You Were A Mermaid, You Said, If You Were A Mermaid, I Was The Sea.

What Sexual Preference Do You Hope She Has?” “happiness.” Isnt That Cool?

I Think That Poetry Is Perfect For Women Raising Children, With Just Bits Of Time And Such Need To Connect To Other Women Out Of The Isolation Of Motherhood.