“We gather as we always have: Naomi and Ruth, Aphrodite and Helen, Eve and her lioness. We are good girls. Mothers and dancers and counselors. We are wicked too, but we won't tell you this. Instead we arrange plates of bread and fruit, slip into the center of each other. Find our childhoods, our varied pleasures, the aged and blistered scars. We are half drunk, half destroyed. Nothing left but blood and bone. Still we surface— fold into each other like paper cranes. Her, like a long-lost lover. Her, a cool and healing balm.” PoetryWomenFeminism Book:What Kind of Woman: Poems Source: What Kind of Woman: Poems
“The Women Who Walk Us Home The ones who arrive with a bag of clothes, four tired lemons, half a story from her sister's trip to Paraguay. The ones who keep our secrets and whose secrets we keep in potted plants, in every ocean we've ever known. The ones who know our husbands, their little pleasures. Our lovers and our scars. The ones who stay, hope like a moth. Who stare into the gaping tomb and are not afraid of its unveiling. The ones who will be there, even then (even then), to walk us home.” WomenFriendship Book:What Kind of Woman: Poems Source: What Kind of Woman: Poems
“Like a Wife The week before my wedding, my friend's dad said: just don't get fat, like other wives do. And so I brined him in a deep salt bath, added thyme and celery. Devoured him whole, in one big bite, so he could see just how hungry a woman can be.” PoetryWomenMarriageFeminism Book:What Kind of Woman: Poems Source: What Kind of Woman: Poems