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

again.

and yes, it is so good.

karla bardanza

Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2015