Occupation: teacher/poet/observer |
Member Since: February 2010
Last Login: 04/01/2015
I am in my sixth decade of life though I don't know when it moved from second to sixth. I like to think I live by the African Proverb, "if you are not living on the edge, you are taking up too much room.
Hidden in the night of sheets, I fail to rise.
Names emerge, not of my being.
I no longer feel able to answer to that
bestowed upon me at birth.
The fit is loose.
I know a thing or two about reputation.
A name tells it all.
Time refined, the Junie fades to June to
the middle of the middle name.
Linda becomes Lynda.
I settle on Junlynda.
Most of this is just ego anyway
No need to explain my calling.
My emotions are packed in all the
right containers. A preoccupation with
egotism leads me to yoga classes,
weekly facials, pedicures and manicures.
Wrapped in banana leaves, pungent and raw,
I lie still… clutching the transparent soft breezes of lust.
On this quiet linen pre-dawn,
the familiar grows sublime once again.
JUNIE has a stranglehold, expands my confidence.
The light of the moon
perpetrating the laced veiled window releases
the "real me."
Shimmering, I escalate to levels of self-abduction
and bask in the gaudy spectrum of colors generated
by my ability to gratify my own yearnings.
The girl (once dead)
inside of me is embraced by
my desire; a star on the rise.
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