waiting on you to die so i can be myself

a thousand years of daughters, then me.

what else could i have learned to be?

girl after girl after giving herself to herself

one long ring-shout name, monarchy of copper

& coal shoulders. the body too is a garment.

i learn this best from the snake angulating

out of her pork-rind dress. i crawl out of myself

into myself, take refuge where i flee.

once, i snatched my heart out like a track

& found not a heart, but two girls forever

playing slide on a porch in my chest.

who knows how they keep count

they could be a single girl doubled

& joined at the hands. i'm stalling.

i want to say something without saying it

but there's no time. i'm waiting for a few folks

i love dearly to die so i can be myself.

please don't make me say who.

bitch, the garments i'd buy if my baby

wasn't alive. if they woke up at their wake

they might not recognize that woman

in the front making all that noise.