I Don’t Need To Go To Paris

I can stay right here,
no passport, no visa
no access to that fairytale
land of opportunity and liberty

I don’t need to go to Paris
to find those willing
to gun me down, blow me up,
kill me in the name
of their bloodthirsty god
called gender.

Those terrorists
walk the streets
of my world behind
white faces, middle class manners
and smirks to rival the Riddler’s.

Paris comes to me

Your Waiting Pyre

Go ahead…
light it, the match
and let the spark
fall on the twigs,
the tindre tenebrous

I will stand
on your perch
you made for me
under the sign
saying suffer not
a witch to live.

Even while
the flames lick
and curl around
my ankles and calves
I still see you clearly

From my perch
(your perch)
Standing on
Your Waiting Pyre

The Barrier You Are

You sit, snide, sneering
behind your nicey face
feeding your inner mean-girl
bonbons and envy

You turn green and then white
As fingers of dread and doubt
Grab your throat and choke
Because you cannot spin

Or weave or throw clay
So you weave tales, innuendo,
wage war of resistance
and haughty head tosses

That brain barrier has
gotta go…gotta shatter
and I am just the girl
to break it.