Tag Archives: widow

again again again

01 Tuesday Oct 2013

Posted by in Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

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But my mother’s mother, Maleficent,
widowed from her first love, and that love’s first
ripe fruit, moved through her father’s realm, torment
in her heart, her native tongue, being cursed
as all fairy tales curse us with ruin.
Again. Again. Again. “Find your magic,”
grandmother replied at each doubt—her one
dictum, fed with her green fire and sapphic
faith. She spoke so little of pain that we
forgot that she was a widow with no
regret, practiced in delight. I recall
all her stories, of heroines scrubbed free
of men’s curses. Tales where not one widow,
crone, step-mother died—just burned for us all.

moonstruck

06 Wednesday Feb 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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“You calmly hushed me,
taking away my barbarous ways.”
— Bunny Keiko (2005)

Bunny Keiko and her “mystical fuck”
reminds me of “The Woman Who Married
A Ghost Boy.” A widow became moonstruck
with a fey boy’s ghost. All ghosts need to feed
but what good is mother’s milk to the dead?
He hoped to please her, as any lover
would try; but he died a virgin, unfed
and lost and wasn’t much good with pleasure,
giving or taking. They didn’t despair,
though, with his wet hand prints in her panties,
her big ass, her small toes; she loved going
down on him, hard. Which is why their affair
makes me smile and reminds me of Bunny’s
poem on love and mystical fucking.