My head sings like raindrops¾
forwarding my address to the mad man on the corner
now he can peak into my mind and read me
like a book at bedtime.
The water in the sink is leaky
it falls on the floor
but melts before I can clean it up.
Outside my body there is a clean willow tree
with feather-like leaves.
I can go in and out of it
but never around
So like the sky
I stretch out
I praise my forth coming lord with flowers
and a smile that broke my mouth when trying.
My fingers are old with this feeling
and my body almost sick,
generations of soft women,
why cant I be one?