You Are Not a Woman

No, dear, you are not

a woman; as they say

You are a million pieces of wood chips

stray from the moaning

of the earth

No, honey, you are not merely

a symbol, no

You are the outer edge of

a starving dog's cry for love

a hundred dreams

soaked in gold

No, darling, you are not wholly

a mother, no

You are the intersection

where the flames in the hearts

meet the spasms in the mouths

No, no, no, you are not

a song, love

You are the childhood

escaped from the worldly flute

You are the apology

that bears the history

of our species