When you look upon me, I wither
shrink from the hard insistence of your gaze—
unblinking as an owl
pierced by a blade of judgment
in your presence I babble
words flow from my throat in shallow, breathless waves
or get caught there, interrupted, half-formed
my tongue turned to stone
my little poems and melodies
the precious secrets of my life
seem the whimsical play of butterflies
whose fanciful, amber wings disintegrate with the slightest touch
or the frivolous vanity of irises—
useless beauties, slender maidens of pearl and indigo,
that collapse with the breeze,
bowing obsequiously in the rain
No, you are a woman of substance
a warrior
grounded in soil
with a mind to be reckoned with
only the bravest adversaries dare confront you
we cower in your shadow
obey your orders without question
you lead us—our cold mother, our choleric queen
without you we scatter like the erratic fluff of dandelions
Born not from your mother’s womb
but from your father’s head
you have no patience for the world of women
polite, soft on the outside sweet to the tongue,
yet at the core conniving and sour
you prefer the directness of battle
to make a clean kill
to defeat your enemy or perish
a keen strategist
you peer into my soul, like down a well
and find it lacking water, substance
I am left with a hot, blazing wound
penetrated by your sharp word
yet beware—
lest your allies desert you,
betray you in the hour of your need,
lest you inadvertently murder your friend
with the cruel accuracy
of your merciless axe
Honorable Mention, Poetry Society of Virginia 2022 Contest, Bess Gresham Memorial
Comments