Rita Soficaru

Edition XXI

Woman - by Rita Soficaru (Photo by Luke Braswell)Photo credit: Luke Braswell


By Rita Soficaru

My heart is a dark, moist cave,
and there’s a woman there;
tall, dark-haired and
covered in blood.
She’s not talking
but her eyes are telling
the never-ending story
of not giving
myself permission
to be a woman.

My womb is a Desert:
hot and dry and windy,
and there’s a woman there;
tall, light-headed
and losing herself in the dust.
She’s not talking either,
or maybe she is
but there’s so much noise
and light and oblivion –
I can’t hear her.

I visited them
the night I was told
to be a mermaid
but I turned into a shark
the two women
would happily give permission
to eat them.

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