I wish I did not write about love.
I wish I had not let them brand me.
If I am on the market
How will people know if this subject
is the only way I’m in print?
I wish I did not write about nature
Specifically how it makes my ovaries blossom.
If I am only fertile these few more years
All ready engraved in pollen
How will anything other than sticky stamen penetrate?
I wish I did not write about Venus.
She gives away my distance, timing and rotation.
If I am not pulled by internet routers
Turned out from churning oceans
How will I find connection?
I wish I did not write about you.
who have folded language over in the mouth so it
Curses in hisses of spit and sputum.
If I am to share saliva again
How can I turn my tongue over?
I wish I had not written.
Pen and paper has given me away.
Perhaps though in ink
You could endorse this woman’s indentations.
I am simply blotched
Bleeding about the page like the rest of you.
Press me to your adjoining pages
I will etch in so you read me well.