My Colleagues
This is my odial song to all girls with notebooks
We pocket-poets scribbling away,
Riffling our ambitions away to the dusty nooks that are called guilt.
Look closely-- I find I am unalone
Save by a choice or a dear novel wish
To undo these bonds of spiral notebooks bound
And fly in the wild white yonder of print.
No, I am not alone; I choose to remain cowardly,
To work my art, my desire as a shield rather than a battle cry.

We are all hysterical priestesses of our era,
Riddled with doubt, pulling back into our own cavernous silence,
We scribble out a niche, we are witnesses to our own anger
Our inherited empire, America, sliding away,
While we cling to our aloneness, and drown in it.

-End