Woman
You slip away in poems that you wrote,
In songs composed, in paintings painted by
Your lust and fingers. You turn out the vote
For candidate and then learn just how sly
He was, or muster funding for the cause—
And win—but then the circumstances change.
You disappear in politics for laws
That come too late. Their purposes are strange
Within the landscape where they land. You pour
Devotion and your work in husband, child,
Or holiness. He runs off with a whore.
It turns out you have been Christ’s bride beguiled.
..When they are cleaning out your drawers and room,
….They pretty much forget you had a womb.