Denying her wounds came from the same source as her power.

Her power came from denying her wounds.
The ability to deny came from power.
Power came from the ability to deny--
not only the reflection of self in the pond or the mirror,
but also the reality of the needs of others,
so evident in their lives,
in the rhythm of their walking.

 

Dream Woman, big and round as her ambitions
extracts the fuel to carry on by merging with mold.
It grows continually around her,
veiled only by a thin layer, painted white
to offset what lurks behind,
consuming her airborne thoughts as she sleeps,
taking opportunistic lunges at her health
when she feels alone.

 

Dream Woman, big and round,
exacts power by denying her loss of breath.
She breathes deeply, naked,
a one-woman purification system
for the toxic world that birthed her.

 

She will do her part
by minimizing her own foul output;
She will eat well--
lots of carrots for better vision.
She will carry a big stick for steep inclines,
and she will speak loudly
so as not to be missed.

 

She knows that to choose this life,
to dance as though in harmony with the crumbling walls
and the dripping ceiling, leaning down as in a cave--
to allow all that is outside of her to lead--
to dip her, to swirl her about,
to hold her close and accept her as she is,
she must do the same,
or the music fails them both,
the lights come on and she begins to feel the stirring of a cough in her throat,
the stinging of welts on her arms.
Her skin is a series of painted walls
shielding the creeping,
the growing deterioration
from the eyes of others.

 

Dream Woman,
truly successful in denying all loss to herself
has become a cleaner source of energy for others--
all who will come after her, as they say.
Bombarded for years by the small place
she had purified with her own body,
her love was poison only to her.