Today I’ve got some old poems for you, some you have read before, some are new.
enjoy
187
I’ve spent so many winters
writing love letters to historical figures.
The woman of wars and woes
Goddesses of myth
Infanta Maria
And Yaa Asantewaa
And The Golden Stools on which they sit.
My darling Gentileschi
with the beheading blade,
Of brush and paint.
Artemisia who slayed her Assyria aggressor.
Where are all those huntresses of Artemis?
Mine is a cult of the moon and of soft bodies.
But why when I came to you,
Did I treat you as a mortal?
-A
200
To be young and brave is no great feat
For you know nothing,
And in your ignorance
know of nothing that can hurt you
But to be old and brave,
To maneuver around all that fear
The fear that comes with knowing
And the type of knowing that comes from having done, and having been hurt.
To navigate those deep waters and to be brave
and to stand full chested at the front of that ship and face those waves
And turning tides
That is something.
-A
184
The iconoclasm of our love.
When it was over,
It was like a library burning down
Alexandria
Alexandria
Alexandria
It almost sounds like your name
Gone are the tomes and tapestries of all that was us.
Our jokes
and our fights
and our sex
and our art.
All burnt.
in the great schism of our love.
-A
I missed your writings this weekend. These were worth waiting for. You have such a beautiful gift.
i'm gonna need you to make a whole album reciting your poems😩😩 these are beautiful, avan