THE WOMEN gather under the trees.
They bring gifts, food, and chairs.
They are gypsies and queens, oracles, saints,
Jezebels and jesters, healers, sages, and warriors.
And when the circle is complete, the magic begins.
Shyly, with dainty movements, they take turns,
shifting aside their robes to expose
missing limbs and gaping wounds.
The others gather close and peer, heads cocked,
eyes straining, and they chant,
"That is lovely, that is good,"
and the wounds stop weeping,
and they melt into scars,
silvery and light and beautiful.
Then the women lean back and laugh,
and they stretch, sensual and fierce,
like cats in the sun.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Rhyming Recipe

{Read to a rap beat}

Heat the oven to 325
Beat egg whites and put aside
A half-pound butter beaten creamy
Two egg yolks add to the mix
One cup ground almonds does the trick
One good teaspoon baking powder
Joined with two and a half cups flour
Mix it all, fold in egg whites
Squeeze it into a cookie mold
In fifteen minutes, they’re a sight to behold
Yo!
--Isadora
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