It’s Been A Month
The night they
I started speaking less in public,
I was worried that the lion in my throat could not be tame;
that they might see an animal where woman once stood.
That they were hunters
Bless the equator of thighs,
the wide spreading root of hips,
the lengthening of tender breast,
Bless the surrender of jaw,
the caverning of waist,
Bless the river of cheek, and lips.
The reconstruction of a once barren landscape.
This miracle the prophets have told of,
where once there was only stone,
the azaleas are quietly blooming.