Circuit

When I was called
come speak
to women far away as the buffalo
on hip broad plains beyond my
squint-eyed comprehension even
with a well mapped plan
I went and spoke and saw
that I carried the plan
for their passion, the small
seeds I carried so
lightly between my full moon breasts
were just
the nourishment they would
need in the coming blizzard
of invasive control howling winds
blowing through their rust complexions
peach soft bodies piercing their very
seed dormant wombs
with false orders –
reproduce
beyond the needs of the planet
or the race, multiply in their
shades of pale resignation
supply workers consumers soldiers gravediggers.

Speaking only made my voice
carry old truths
back to the women who had
always known them
guarded them
and merely needed to be
reminded of their own gardens.

5-19-05