Say No More

Some people 

love me 

for what I can get them

how I make them look beautiful 

feed them dinner 

bandage the wounds on their hands

the wounds on their hearts

they like the odd luminousness

the ‘ma donna’ quality

which makes me seem vulnerable

or listening

or something

but don’t you 

care for me 

for the wrong reasons

if you don’t want 

to love the wild creature 

brimming with superstitions 

or misconceptions 

or illusions

and her bandolier of worries

just be on your way

and we’ll say no more

about it

I thought that everyone 

was walking around 

with their hearts torn open

like a tuna can

with its jagged edge

and pieces 

of their desires

leaving a trail behind them

to draw out the scavengers

because in the mirror 

I see an ordinary woman 

without special gifts 

except this one of words

to try to reach out 

to try to say

what I believe 

we have been 

feeling.