"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



In 6 inch heels I clomp by    April     World coming alive

Are you starving or just empty inside?  he asked   with am I

ever brilliant eyes    The body does not lie   or at least that’s

the theory   But is it able to pick up on nuance?   Hunger vs.

emptiness of the spiritual kind?


Those pangs were trying to tell you something all winter   +

each time you just stuffed your face  with profiteroles   Now it

seems your jeans are 2 sizes small  +you’re likely pregnant with

the Messiah   Or a pregnant pause  before they take you kicking +

screaming  +buddha-bodied  into your 6th decade


Where you will madly dash toward your maker   who has a gold tooth

+ a glass eye   +smells like curdled milk    They will think you so brave

Little will they know that you are running from  not toward   And at your

heels are the hellhounds sniffing the fecund air   as April come she will

cleaves into May





April  The Cruellest Month

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing 
Memory and desire  
(The Wasteland   T.S. Eliot)

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