If Sex Is A War, I Am

Long Hair Is Considered Bohemian, Which May Be Why I Grew It, But I Keep It Long Because I Love The Way It Feels, Part Cloak, Part Fan, Part Mane, Part Security Blanket.

With My Poems, I Finally Won Even My Mother. The Longest Wooing Of My Life.

Where I Came From, The Nights I Had Wandered And Survived Scared Them, And Where I Would Go They Never Imagined.

The People I Love The Best, Jump Into Work Head First Without Dallying In The Shallows.

Every Baby Born Unloved, Unwanted, Is A Bill That Will Come Due In Twenty Years With Interest, An Anger That Must Find A Target, A Pain That Will Beget Pain. A Decade Downstream A Child Screams, A Woman Falls, A Synagogue Is Torched, A Firing Squad Is Summoned, A Button Is Pushed And The World Burns.