I am one fast bitch--
Keen to fill the world
With as many spotted babies as I can.
To do this,
I quick-step the hot dry grass, bold as noon,
And get backchannel mojo from the moon.
Don't fuck with me--
I have killed and eaten myself, then been mother to myself,
So I am not afraid of much.
I say what I want.
I make my own rules.
When I die, it will be because my heart has burst,
And I will not, even then, be sorry.
I told you, and it's gospel--
I am one fast bitch.
for Shawna's 1999/heat prompt at dverse poetics. In 1999, I was profoundly different. I was in the winding-down stages of a thirteen year straight marriage. Except for a dozen or so poems that I wrote during a brief burst in 1996, I had not written poetry in more than a decade, and would not again until 2006. Almost all of my energies went toward doing the right thing, with others in mind, and yet, all of that color by numbers just blew up in my face by 2001. In 1999 I had buried my true self so deep inside of the construct I had created, that I couldn't really feel a damn thing. I never cried. I might laugh or smile if I thought something was funny, but then it was gone as quickly as it came. I began to sincerely believe that I had lost the very ability to be feel happy. Now, I am all over the map, but I feel intensely, write intensely, and have reinvented myself and my life. I even legally changed my name a decade ago. So, what was 1999 all about? I used to look in the mirror and over and over I would find myself thinking, "Who *is* that?" It sure wasn't me. Must have been a brilliant disguise...