Sixth Extinction by Patricia Watwood
Mark my Entrance
into Time and Space,
Give me Flesh
Pollute my Bones
with the Blood of Man
and call me Woman.
Fill me with earthly delights.
I am not here for the pleasures of humanity
but rather to electrify my species into action,
to transform fears into flights of fancy,
to let the present but be,
sit back and allow the divine to take over.
For I am not myself
but that little voice inside the minds of men that says see beneath.
See beneath my gesture, my gait
See beneath my wardrobe, my wit
See beneath my bird’s nest and my bitten breasts
See beneath the lids
Fall into gates of the unknown.
The prison of paradox has no place in my pools.
They are lovely dark deep an abyss unto themselves.
Mine eyes, tempests, are but portals to the sweet pain of being.
There survives a heart pure and hardened
by the same soaked wretches who gave it luster.
They cannot predict who I am to be
They cannot conceive of the masks of self which cloud their judgement
They cannot see beyond themselves and I outside their universe defy expectations.
I am the never-ending hallucination haunting their waking sleep:
a Woman Wild, a Human Free.
They laugh and shake uncomfortably in their chains.
For when they see me they see Soul.