Napowrimo 12

Yesterday's prompt was interesting -- write an index poem. I looked at my bookshelf and pulled out Stealing the Language by Alicia Ostriker for some good old fashioned feminist theory.

Index Poem

an image of divinity

always shining from above. 
I look up at him, taller, broader, bigger 
Mistaken for stronger, smarter.


knight in shining armor, prince charming,
the one who saves me from myself, 
opens the jar of pickles,


What you are, 
everything I lack. 
I see myself as night, 
wild and howling at the moon, 
woman in the attic, 
hair like midnight in her face.

Father figure

Father, Father Father 
in heaven looking down at me. 
Another man to disappoint. 
Another man who wants my flesh 
scrubbed clean of my own scent.


you are desire, 
the sunflower waiting 
to be plucked, 
washed in sunrays, 
petals unfolding, 
quivering, always ready.


 when flesh meets flesh meets bone. 
Within this index, that’s all we’ll be, 
a tearing apart, a loosening of self.