Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Woman Prophet, Prophetess

Give me a bite of that thought,
I'd like to grab on for a while.

        But you've got to put down
        that daffodil, girl.
        Put down your flower
        to stomp with these boys,
        take of your shoes to
        walk in this grass, girl.

I can tell you about these
mountains, sure, take you
there no charge. I can throw
my voice into the canyon,
hop scotch that thought
across the river
and call it back to your
feet. Give me a taste
and I'll chew it out.

        But the sun in on its
        way down and we
        are stacking up logs.
        Girl, sit back and
        warm your mits.
        Let your jaw at
        rest and sit by the
        bonfire, girl.

Boys, I can keep my own hands
warm. I can
start a fire. Boys, I can
see the sun slip off and
walk barefoot
all along these trails.
I'm going to
chatter my teeth on
that thought while
you're around those flames.
Listen to me and
let this thought
sink deep under your skin
and I know you'll
get up and dance.

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