The poet begins with an empty ear
She fills it with words of life
Love, fear, hurt, hope, but words are simple letters
She adds her love teaching mind, knowing all of her to give

Little girl digs out stinging tick head that touched her soft skin
Feelings imposed upon female by male fight-the-dollar-fight—jump for money
She catches an octopus and cooks it in a black ink recipe
To be eaten with ”Ummms” and left with dirty, empty dishes

Woman; endlessly facing the computer screen to earn her life
Then spreading the pay to greedy, late fee, bill hands
The harsh voices, demanding deadline more
She presses the gas peddle for thousands of hours

Her man listed as “Head of Household” and she the Mrs.
Always picking the foods in grocery stores, because of breast milk biology
Sex driven modern men in delusion of stick model impossible
Buy tiny bottles of wildly priced have-to-have creams

Her beating heart, for everyone else, begins to slowly wear
So the life’s blood moves, like sweet rain, for others’ growth
One hundred percent mortality weighs down her lovely shoulders
Weary feet and legs carry her on and on in creation

The last of her is pushed into rhyme without supporting orchestra
Darkness, her nightly companion, so she can lonely write
Caught in poetry muse she intimately shows
Heavy, spherical metaphor to only scanning eyes

The phantom reward is in polished gemstones of poetry
Please, please, my lady, create on forevermore
So that I may live in your wise beauty

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