Poem of the Moment

Poem of the Moment

A Woman Is Not a Potted Plant

her roots bound
to the confines
of her house

a woman is not
a potted plant
her leaves trimmed
to the contours
of her sex

a woman is not
a potted plant
her branches
espaliered
against the fences of her race
her country
her mother
her man

her trained blossom
turning this way & that
to follow
the sun
of whoever feeds
and waters
her

a woman
is wilderness
unbounded
holding the future
between each breath
walking the earth
only because
she is free
and not creepervine
or tree.

Nor even honeysuckle
or bee.

Can We Keep In Touch?

Can We Keep In Touch?

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