Sep 07

I swear

My words will no longer drip like honey
I swear
My words will no longer ring like treacle
And smell like lilles-of-the-valley 
And hollow themselves like carving up an orange
Soft, deliberate slices
My words will no longer babble like a stilted brook
Strategically placed rocks and dams
Slowing blood gushing from the wound
Our primary goal is minimum losses
My words will no longer feel like Girl should
Like soft and curvy and milky and billowing in and out
No bone structure to those words
My words will no longer fill their ears like gumdrops
My words will run like rumors
I swear to Ruth and to Angelou and to Shelly and Hinton and Curie and Walker
My words will bellow like war bells
And smell like rose petals crushed under marching feel
And they will be thick and full and heavy and furious like pillars 
My words will bleed them dry and bandaids will no nothing but make them seem more monumental
My words will feel like Woman
Bitter and pitted and angry
So so so so angry
My words will fill their ears with shrapnel and bruises that echo for days
I swear upon everyone who has sworn upon Her before me
My words will no longer drip like honey