They came at me with crucifix horns,
My glass slippers shattered as I ran,
White-cold shards bit my white-skinned soles,
And the shark-shards shredded my snow-white feet,
But I ran, I ran like a wild-fire streak.
They pinned me to an ancient tree,
They sealed my heart with an arrow of words,
to the age-old bark of the ageless sage.
Choicest they were, the woods they used,
As they let loose the ravenous flame on the lavender wood--
--but it was good wood,
it was wise wood,
With my unbound soul I raped the skies,
And our bastard children let loose on earth,
Demons with dry wells for souls,
And I let them consume me, eat my flesh,
Their white-cold teeth shredded my softness,
I was wood, once again, burnt sandalwood.
Witch! they screamed, and tore at my hair,
As I fell into their pitchfork fury,
Metal fangs suckled my breast and my womb tingled
from the rancid passion; we were making hate.
Ardently and lustfully, we rode each others' malice.
The rotting, festering vomit of emotion,
settled in a putrid, acid curd.
When it rained, I stretched out my jaw,
and tasted the clean water, free of taint,
And I was melting, melting, oh!
My feet like hot wax glued me to the cleansed earth,
A tender peace, like translucent paper--wet rice paper,
fell over my face, and I could see,
The world washed out in whiteness, peace.
My fingers lock--a gridlock, stubborn gates,
My toes curl like hungry hoes,
And my wood-carved body's carved out again,
And now I'm a boat, a ferryman's bitch.
Men--many men--sit in my womb,
And I birth them with no pain, no gain,
When their journey is done.
They will not return to my womb.
I'm a ferryman's bitch,
A red-wood canoe,
not lavender, not sandalwood,
I'm ugly wood now.
I'm gnarled and knotted,
But I can still bear life,
And my unbound soul,