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