it is the coven that heals
from maryland’s crackling phone wires
to arizona’s desert peace
to riverside
feminine tentacles reach, tug, pull—
pruning
uncovering the best in each other
as our mirrors are covered with muck and mire.

it is because they don’t understand
christopher plummer stands furiously, firmly, in the
dolores claiborne is thrice guilty box
better that she be a murderer
than a woman who loves in ways he will never understand

ah, but steven; you knew

you knew any force that could entice lucifer down from heaven
lead a sorry band out of Eden to childbearing doom
you knew we were the center of a force more steadying
more noble
than any death on a battlefield
than any life portrayed by Homer.

you knew, steven,
that what we women protect
what we love
we never expect to reciprocate
we knew
the minute we bit into the apple
the sour taste of loss
the weight of so much knowledge.

has it never occurred to you
that we bore the stripping of our power
the defaming, deriding, burial of the Goddess
the vilifying, through the centuries, of eve
the removal of the real role of women from the new testament
we bear all this
and still love you?

yes, God was paying full attention
when he created us.

and so, lover, i know you are hiding
i know there is a deeper self telling you exactly who i am in your life
i am not worried
God is in control of our relationship
and he’s given me the steel
to wait you out.

one day you will trust me enough
to be specific

until then
i weave and wait
weave and wait

in the company of my noble sisters.