Woman Awakened

Muted,
Constrained,
Dressed in all the proper clothes,
Propped in all the proper roles,
A doll long ignored,
Covered in dust,
Unfeeling as painted, plastic skin.
Hunger is the earthquake,
the belly throb,
the gut thump,
the moan released, that cracks the surface.
Skin, sensing and feeling,
Flooded by the kisses of
just cool air,
I am a volcano,
Liquid and molten,
Erupting,
Undone by chaos.
Ready to recreate
Myself.

Copyright 2001.

poetry