fury is the name of woman
‘She was a thief and a whore and a kept woman,
She was a thing to be used and played with.’
Woman With A Past. Sandburg.
there was a woman
dragged herself out of the mud
hugged herself & cried. cried it all out.
hot showered, & washed off the dirt, but not the hurt.
a woman loves once: deep, unkillable love.
everything else is companionship –
loneliness without being alone.
she arrayed herself in leather, lace, dark eye shadow
jewels that sparkled like flecks of desire in men’s eyes
displayed herself in honky-tonks, road houses,
wherever there were men & money.
fine lusty figure of a woman
made men want her bad.
(she never considered herself wicked;
Jesus loved Mary Magdalene, He would love her too.)
she saw his face on every man as she laid in his bed;
his body, his unshaven savagery giving her
the pleasure she stole.
that stanchion filled her as she squeezed on it
the g’s of her wanton flesh took to fire
she soared to the outskirts of heaven on a burning jetstream.
pagan affairs of the heart: defeated lovers
who cried ‘I want you baby, I want you again,’
then she walked away. that was her revenge.
it was a funeral for love
but she never mourned…
she was a sexual outlaw
justified by her sanpaku tears…