Poem No. 2: My Kind of Feminism
Like a car that wouldn’t go, I
woke up in life to find
parts missing. Parts of the spirit,
introverted body members,
aspects in the soul.
And yokes.
Management was altogether important,
obviously,
not only stopping and going.
Unlike a car missing parts,
I could do both of these.
But the hours or hows got lost
in a maze of wills and obsessions,
bearings and needs.
Clear paths changed into detours and
wanderings into compass points of
lost and found. Echoes, called memories
became indivisible alpha and omega murmurs
in my soul.
My living, exfoliating,
like a black multifoliate rose.
Notes:
From A Train Called Judah (Eden Press, 1998). Reproduced with permission of Nina Rodgers Gordon.
This poem is part of the portfolio “Carolyn Marie Rodgers: What Beauty We Now Have” from the October 2022 issue.
Source:
Poetry
(October 2022)
