NaPoWriMo #2 – The Other Boleyn Girl
I want to be a better queen so badly
that I scrape at the rose thorns around my neck,
whose lethal kisses pierce through skin and larynx
and strangle the royalty out of me.
Each tiny tattoo mocks that
my lineage is not regal
but a shocking procession of welfare princesses
and women bitter from chalices
filled with unrequited love and deferred dreams.
My foremothers have a menagerie of bones between their thighs
where they have chewed through the pride, hearts and will
of suitors who wanted more than to conquer them –
who desired only to rewrite the journals
smeared with the blood of hearts burned out
from the very duty of trusting indiscriminately
and I haven’t dreamed in a minute.
Fear, with her metal hands,
weave barbed wire around my mind and soul
to make up my life as I go along
and let authenticity slow dance
down my legs into a pool of eternal oblivion.
But, I can’t be counterfeit anymore, either.
Truth, like pimples, rears its pus-filled head
promising that if I just squeeze past the adolescent pain
the beauty of womanhood will emerge
without memorable blemish.
please restore me to the wholeness of myself!
There are ink stains in my bed again.
I’m running out of pads to sop them up.
©2010 La Shaun phoenix Moore