Inner Goddess
Hand me that hammer and wedge. I'll strike at my own head untill Athena jumps out, fully dressed and bent on justice. You may not recognize her this time round: she ditched that skirt years ago; she burned her bra in the 60's and never looked back. Pushing away brushes and powders and things that will burn you as soon as make you beautiful, she told me that she'll never paint those shimmery pink half-moons around her eyes again. Once, I saw her run shouting into the night just to hear her own voice split the quiet. And now that she has brushed off the afterbirth bits of brain and bone, she'll grab the world by its shoulders and scream truths into its face, harsh and unasked for.
Morning After
Awake in foreign territory
desolate landscape
of empty bottles and unconscious forms
A quiet gathering of shoes, and
Ease the door closed behind me
Saturday morning seven am sunlight
green-gold long lovely
overbright hungover
Off skyscraper windows and tenacious ice
As I walked to where I left my car
Tremble-hands still drunk drive home
Stumble into my carousel bed and give it a push
Where I’ll spin until the gentle hand of sleep
Stops this ride that would make children weep.
Bio:
Kathryn Erlinger makes things. And reads. And yells at assholes. And bleeds. She is working on what will probably be a degree in English Literature from University of Missouri Kansas City. www.myspace.com/katiekaboom1981