Self oppression

once, i dreamed

everyone was bound by

invisible chains.

no one could see them but i.

some were bound by doubt;

others, anxiety; still others, fear.

the chains wrapped around the soul, then extended

and dragged

on the ground.

(though i did notice that some were unchained –

they were very few, and tended to create things.

there was fire in their eyes.)

even invisible chains make noise

(or so i thought – everyone either couldn’t hear them or pretended

not to).

the chains dragged and clanked

making the most terrible racket

and the noise was deafening –

then i awoke to find

it was never really a dream

at all.

Burying a

And when I die,
surely from sin and dirt and living-
Do not bury me in white.

Do not brush my hair and paint my nails.

Do not shine my heels and iron my dress.

Do not speak of me so bittersweetly.
Bury me in lingerie with frayed lace.

Muss my hair and smear my lipstick.

Scuff my boots and rip my tights.

Speak of me with thinly-veiled vehemence.
Do not love me,

when I am dead.

For none did during life,

other than in the glow of a t.v.

that only played to hide the moans.
Do not bury an imposter

and spin tales of a sweet virgin

who died too soon.

Bury a

and rage that you were not the one

to finally silence her.