girls can't be poets

girls can't be poets

they're too busy cleaning.

wiping the sweat from you shoulders

and the misery from your brow.

they're too busy playing games.

dancing like fireflies and

dodging your bullets.

they're too busy planning superfluous activities.

your birthday party and

a camel back trek to marrakech.

they're too rash and hasty.

they'll hop in a car and drive to oregon.

they'll sleep on anyone's couch.

they won't take the time 

to write anything down.

they remember.        everything.

they're too busy primping

finger twisting their hair

zipping into your favorite blue dress.

and they're always late. 

she was listening to her favorite song,

heart pounding, how she melts every time.

they're too busy crafting shit.

knitting you a blanket

painting a mural; colors in shapes of people; you.

they're unhealthy beings,

smoking a cigarette from a jade holder.

sipping your gin.

girls can't be poets,

they don't know the meaning of art.

they can find art anywhere!

even the gutter of the street. 

they're too busy giving advice,

making you stand up for yourself.

"tell her" she says and it makes

 you say "i love you"

they're too busy cooking,

sauteeing meals from cans

to feed your children.

they're too busy lighting candles,

taking photos of friends,

writing letters to lost ones,

or studying portugese

to be a poet.

they're too busy fornicating with their lovers.

the ones who adore the lashing curve of her spine,

the taste of her skin; her need for it on the full moon.

they're too busy nurturing your seed

folded in her womb. 

cells splitting, multiplying,

round head, tiny fingers.

she makes a human being

with your hazel eyes,

her complexion,

and both of your tempers.

girls can't be poets,

they're too busy studying.

breastfeeding, breathing,

raising, comforting, disciplining,

as she whispers lullabies to her belly

her magic potion child growing.

they're busy birthing 

new generation,

mother earth,

mother eagle,

mothering us all.

girls can't be poets.

because their lives are poetry.  

-august 2008