Sacred Monster


Cinnamon red lips,

eyelashes flecked with blue,

brown ringlets,

waxes and hidden

velvet folds –

are the makings of a beautiful marionette.


Yards of silk and satin

blanket a perfect and cool layer of skin –

dilated pupils blinking

under thickened shades of coal

are reminders that we really have not come so far.


Adolescent waists the width of a wrist,

draped with pearls that shine –

are intended to enflame

only misplaced and temporary passions.


She hides a bitten bloody tongue,

atrophied from lack of use

in a room full of suitors

who stand like cold fish.


Rebar in her spine prevents

natural movement, a stumble or

a pause – – – –


this is all that is woman…

I will have no part of it.

                                   Jessie Land

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