i am not the kind of girl with a golden heart and wide open arms
no narcissus, no contrite orchid blooming
I am not one who coos at babies and vulnerability
am not of pink bows and kneeling in pews alabaster
too much love burns the kindness and soft spots
too much bruise thickens the viscera and sharpens awareness
no lace, no tempered pane--no black and white
gray is the tea I brew, the color I wrap about these bones
contrast defines, knowing binds
no sympathy for the devil, no hymns to the heavens
I am not the kind of girl who opens the door without thinking about the door
for a thousand and ten years
so if you're waiting ...
learn a song and steal my burnished heart
with your unbridled burn
with your hands for craft and edges enfolding
with your sure-fast gaze for a thousand and ten years
I am not of pepper, monster trucks and short shorts
no black-velvet-elvis upon my wall
no tether to the birch of a smokey mountain morning
hyacinth nectar tethers me
something better wakes me
what drips from these arms is
not moved by the ordinary
not stilled by love
I am not the kind of girl who believes in temperance, jesus and circuses
I am not unlike the honey bee
honey bees cling to the sweetness, the sting and the soar
of wind and weather
and
the better than love kind
the better than love kind
