primeval post-marriage

I could break you with my thighs,
venom teeth, blazing gems on dagger rings
elegant fists, coiled, holding flaming coals
bragging while drinking your tears...but I won't.

I won't recoil into a fortress dark
build up cemented walls of male bodies,
or swim burning pools of woe and whiskey
or army crawl on loaded hips, scraped knees.

I do not get lost in you, no more Gulliver
largely awkward, stumbling in your fragile world
calculated steps, miserable and sanitized, protecting
compromised immune systems and boy ego.

I should smudge your spirit out with sage
vacuum up each skin flake, bath in crystals
emerge from menstrual blood, witchy good
cleansed in moon tides and free.

I will just shed you faster than uterine lining
without a flinch, a cramp, a cough, a gleam.
just your neatly folded band shirts, clean
records respectfully boxed, waiting patiently.

Because I rise from burnt amber ashes all the time
golden but feminine, searching and fearless
still open, pure and true, knowing even
if my legs are lost, I'll will just make wings.