Tag Archives: Kate Ellis

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Pearl 

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 

Rather

Turned out from churning oceans

Pearl soaked

How will I find connection? 
I wish I did not write about you. 

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 

Stamped 

Bleeding about the page like the rest of you. 
Press me to your adjoining pages 

I will etch in so you read me well. 

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Girl 

Today she thought 

I miss being a girl. 
How many times these months

chants & championing 

The words 

woman & strong 

impregnated so as she might erupt

An Orphic egg

Spit out a new cosmos amongst the darkness

maybe, 

Create from the wound. 
She was sorry to let the universe down. 
But when she buckled up her own helmet before riding 

when she took her own hand to cross the road against the lights   

She shuffled her feet at the curb & breathed

‘All the women in me are tired. 

I miss being someone’s girl’. 

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Untitled 

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Refuge 

Come in.

Lay your body down.

This place

it is

a refuge.

You.

Warrior

…with your armor up

…and your iron eyes

…and your stiffened lips

Unfurl your hair

let it avalanche down your steel shoulders

and flush cheek bone

and breast.

 

Come in.

Lay your body down.

This place

it is

a refuge.

Tell me your stories

Let your tongue tease out the learning

Your muscles ease out the burning

and your heart

so swollen

…let it leech out for awhile.

 

Give. me. your. lungs. warrior.

A baby would know what to do under such circumstances.

I am giving you permission to do the same.

Make your mournful sounds.

You have not forgotten how

only pretended.

 

Give. me. your. salt. warrior.

Your lacrimation will be a final desalination

Through pores

excrete what your body can no longer contain.

I will gather the delicate crystalline in my palms

and with index finger and thumb

we will use it to season

what. comes. next.

 

Come in.

Lay your body down.

Dear warrior

This place

it is

your refuge.

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Edges

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Hold

It’s hold over you is temporary.

Breathe.

Cradle the softest parts of your heart.

Take your hand.

There there.

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Still. noisy. 

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Muse 

If I had a $ for every time I’ve been called a muse… ‘inspirational’. 

I admit. I’ve enjoyed your desire & my ego has been sufficiently stroked by what you’ve created from me.       But I’m no longer content. I want to a-muse myself now.         

I am After all The Fertile one. 
So I’m going to impregnate the fuck out of myself.              
I’ll start with jazz ( a woman likes to be woo’d after all).        I’ll vibrate between all those polyrhythms and be titlated with every scratch off the record. 

I’ll then dress myself in the kind of fabric that will rub up against my skin enough All eggs will release themselves in the belief something is coming.

I’ll run myself a hot bath so I can return to the womb      Talk to it and say       Let’s birth this baby 

I’ll fire up my gut with cardamom, chilli and cinnamon so instinct will say 

Yes Yes Oh yes 

And no.    will come with a resounding full stop. 

Artists have never needed money to create. I don’t need your dollar coins. 

            I am the Fertile one after all. 

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