I have a wound
From where the red blood flowed with clots that pained
Babies dead and nothing else remained
Yet I tried again and never knew
My interior a man might love to view
In childhood this place seemed so very small
Now it feels so huge, the size appalls
The envy of the plain, the vice of fools
This sacred space, a woman’s school
I have a wound

Is your glowing face a map?
are your tender ways a map?
what is not a map?
Is your open smile a map?
Is your deepest groan a map?
what is not a map?
Is my  too sharp touch a map?
Is my too quick glance a map?
what is not a map?

Is this sea green leaf a map,
Is this light red flower a map?
What sort of map is that?
Is the evening sky a map,
Is the silver moon a map?
Of what is that a map?
Is this entire world a map?
Is the sun-soaked sky a map?
Is this tiny child a map?

think I am a map.
Who can learn to read these maps?
Without love we can’t perceive;
Who can teach us how to see?

Can we look beyond the Map?
Can we look into the gap?
What can Love,now, read?
What Love now can we receive?

I take you to be my raucaus. bedded lust -fiend
To have out on Bail
Make love in the Fall
For better for worse
To kiss and to curse
For witches with Euros
And those with olf bureaus
To witness our wealth
And have sex here by stealth
Till we ruin our health
And lose maps and heart
Until wrath does us part
And the hearse will not start
I love to be smart