Monday, March 6, 2017

Caveat Emptor

I was a woman
of no ambition,
few dreams,
and even fewer dollars.

Let me check my gage and
see if I could even drive
to the next gas station.

It was a fault
that could never stick
to my collar or my uniform
(but this is not a fashion show),
speaking in signs

to the see-through
iridescent ones,
downloading elegant
robes online,
runes delineating
my spiritual rights
instead of rumours—

oils dripping, salmon flipping,
and ancient medicine
echoing the osteoblasts
of my bone.

Sinew to sinew,
we were glossy horses
among the six hundred
that belonged to a prince.

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