The woman used to step out
of her morning skin
and dress in protective layers
of scratchy fear, and a hat of scathe.
She lived in a perpetual kind of shock,
even before the bad thing she knew
was sure to happen, happened.
She felt prepared, that way.
Prepared for what might, no, what
would, certainly, go wrong.
She wore sturdy shoes, in order to kick
annoying people. Those shoes also
had a stacked sort of heel to absorb
the various shudders
the world forced upon her. She hid
her eye-rolls, not particularly well, since
she was good with words, but tried,
with sunglasses, and a syrupy voice.
From that sweet voices shot hot streams
several times a day,
to prove she was not so naive as
to not have noticed how messed up
the world was. At home, she used only
her fork as the weapon, pushing it
hard across the plate, so that people
would wonder if she was displeased
with them, or some other mysterious
force (they did deserve it, for
Then one day she grew bored of it. She
wanted her head to stop hurting
and to stop minding so much when things broke.
She wanted to laugh, without sarcasm,
and to just see, what if love were mostly
She wanted peace, at least, inside, she thought.
(You'll want to know that she had been
a pacifist and had even written
some important articles about war and the
futility of violence. But it dawned on her that day
she was on her own, a type of battle on a body.
How could one expect whole countries to stop
fighting, she thought, if individuals
had not even made a truce
yet with themselves and those around them? )
Change was easier than expected. It was a decision.
So she left her morning skin on
that strange new day
and dressed only in a layer of something that
Something good for a party.
Suddenly, all the features of the world's face
she recognized as those of a great
And she rested in her new eyes.
Not being religious, she asked for grace,
to see if it was free
And grace, not being religious either,
came to her, arms wide open, laughing
and loving, soothing and excited!
She cried a few things out-
mostly about the past - but she no longer
treasured it like a badge, an identity. Grace being
a genie, turned her past into a purple geode.
They set it in the windowsill, next to
They have travelled together so happily ever after,
now, staying up late kissing,
gambling on peace, decorating the house,
drinking up the joy of the world,
and spending love
like it grows on trees.
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