the swift traffic of anger and rage
the slow wheels of despair
hope breaking like time
in a song
my childhood watches carefully
as your cruelties turn into
a street that forgot where
it was going
how you are writing your story
for a small woman although
I know no small women--
am more than one
_________
Pic: Full moon last week (when I started this poem).
1 comment:
I like so much about this poem: the metaphor of traffic/streets; the assertion that there are no small women; the idea of a street that forgets where it's going. The last line is confusing me, however, because of the word "am" (or maybe the em dash after "women"?).
The last stanza reads a bit muddled to me. It's almost as if the speaker is claiming that she is more than one small woman. Is it just me?
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