“Gosh,” the poet thinks to herself ~ as old ladies will ~ while posting this poem, “this all happened such a very long time ago now…”

*****

what we said

i said:
if they caught us doing this
in medieval england
they’d have burnt the house over our heads

he said:
let it burn

let it writhe
let it sweat
let it moan
let it scream
let it burn

he said:
the beast is kicking at the door
it is a stout door
oak, with iron bands
but the beast is stronger

i said:
let it come

if it gores me in two
it will not be worse
than this pain of longing
i’m so ready
let it come

*****

This poet presently lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level.

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