Hopeless in a crisis
Out of touch with my inner Isis
Ungraceful
As spinsters at weddings
I anticipate my unravelling
Will be more Santeria-like
Bloodied chicken feathers
And magnolia candles
Than prescriptive
My demise less scripted
Unrehearsed like Oscar speeches
Running over time
Complex
As unsolved sex crimes
Overzealous rookies resurface
To cut their teeth
On something more filling-
Book listed bestsellers thrilling
Or Oprah endorsed storylines
Mine will be
Unequivocally mine
Original copy written
And post-dated
Revered yet never imitated
Understated
As Chloe three-quarter sleeve jackets
Off kilter
Resembling the rebel wall brackets
Holding up my Georgia pine shelves
Analysts delving into my psyche
Won’t make it out alive
Zigzagging over all lanes
In a left hand drive society
I reserve the right to act inappropriately
In manners unbefitting a lady
In accordance with my own
Hybrid post-modern western philosophy:
You are not the boss of me-
Have embraced my inner crazy
Wear the labels openly
Cause clothes don’t make the woman
The biological makeup of a human
Spliced with alien DNA
If you don’t listen
To what I have to say
I’ll just shout louder
Now that I’m older
Than most of my sins
I sit more comfortable
In my own skin
Know my imperfections
Intimately
Accept that they make me me
Split my personality
More times than an atom
Frequently I don’t recognize
My own speech patterns
As if ancestors be talking through me
In a ghetto therapy fashion
And reality
Unhinged its wagon
From the inner recesses
Of my mind
Most days I feel
That there’s only one
Of my kind
And I’m not meant to be
Understood
Just pondered over
With trees falling in woods
Whether they make a sound
I am a walking lost and found-
Metamorphisizing and evolving
Through trial and error
Perfect example
Of what composure
Looks like undressed
Measuring my woman ness
By the looseness of my spirit
Secure enough to strut
In a custom-made straight jacket
Carrying all my eggs
In one
Tightly woven basket-
Don’t care if they break
I make a mean omelette.
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