New Moon Poem...

Intimacy by Marge Piercy  "Why does my life so oftenfeel like a slither of entrailspouring from a wound in my belly?With both my hands I graspmy wet guts, trying to forcethem back in.                Why does my lifeso often feel like a wildblack lake under the midnightthunder where I am drowning,waves crashing over my faceso I try to breathe.                         Whydoes my life feel like a warI am fighting alone?  Why areyou fighting me?  Why aren'tyou with me?  If I die this instantwill you be more contentwith the morning news?Will your coffee taste better?I am not your fate.  I am not your government.I am not your FBI.  I am noteven your mother, not your fatheror your nightmare or your health.   I am not a fence, not a wall.I am not the law or the actuarial tablesof your insurance broker.  I ama woman with my guts loosein my hands, howling and it is notbecause I committed hara-kiri.I suggest either you cook meor sew me back up.  I suggest you walkinto my pain as into the breakingwaves of an ocean of blood, and eitherwe will both drown or we willclimb out together and walk away.   From The Moon is Always Female:  poems by Marge Piercycopyright 1980