A poem to the brave

Between us mars and venus 
and the virtue of wanting more
till the conditional "if" makes no more
sense as we theoretically touch
each other with our dark haired minds.

yes, i know i should be wandering
in another direction, holding just
pluto in my hands, prepared to destroy
or being destroyed, fading happily
when someone frowns or says
i am mathematically illiterate.
(why do we have to be measured
by our milestones of stupidities and joys?)

but i still long for small wonders
like unfastening my bra or taking off
my wristwatch after work and all
the complex things that 
the whole world secretly understands.

-it is so subversive to feel.-

i look forward to large imaginary seasons,
transits of uranus and possible concepts
because i'm pregnant again and
i will give birth to myself.
it is my merry vernal celebration
of fertility and chaos.
look closer there is no blood here,
only stars singing around the corner of the future.

who should be blamed for that
but the retrograde planets?
i am malleable now, face to face with my inner flesh
and all i want is to see
the house burning to the ground
as i find myself in hell and heaven
and yes, it is so good.

karla bardanza

Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2015 Photobucket

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