Woman in Front of Poster of Herself

Said I shouldn't.
         Fingering me.
Everything I did.
A litter of chewed knucklebones

I've spread them out over the
rectangular floor as regularly as
I can; so I can account for them.

	

Her hands are crossed over her breasts and each holds a feather; her face has no features Have I come to beg What do I wish — to be judged?

Is it an accumulation of what I've said, that counts, that I'm counting is it all alphabet and abacus everything rhymed?

You still don't have a face.

Suddenly she has the face of a cat.          No that's a different goddess. I tell you this bloodthirsty jaguar . . .

I haven't any idea what my word is, I mean fault. Is it a word or an act. The whole thrill is ripping me apart Inside these words there's nothing but a pumping bloodsoaked . . . but clearly, everything I said, did, was a long shot

We didn't hear a word What have you ever heard?

Now I'm here — black-caped in a chair. Animal staring at me I sink into your disaffected ambiance to name. What emotional charges have been laid on me from earliest times and my own earliest resulting in the bone strewn carpet I had to grow the dice of accounting to your love; for you made me speak to you lovingly; or did I do that naturally oh just, bloodthirsty face who doesn't have to understand. I don't know who I'm speaking to is pushing me

Judgment maybe it's when being fragile I hallucinate you best

I don't want to use my name! "Where I was born we girls ran free. and named ourselves," Justice says. She may kill me, it depends on whether she's hungry