In the Root Cellar

Claim the curve of the Earth, the world is worth the risk.”

As women,
We have poetry in our lives.

Words like semen ejaculated from all the need of the man’s world
Held in the depths of the womb
Patiently awaiting silvery shaft of the moon
To penetrate darkness of blind night –blind sight.

Vaginal canal carrying the Milky Way
Into the world of inner space where
Adjectives in ovaries bloom,
Carried together in fallopian tube nouns,
All to the verb eggs
Waiting to be cracked
Open like the ‘crack’ of the birth of a star.

Desire, the forbidden fruit
Invites us to cravings
Hungry bellies are necessary for
Space of creation
Carved out by spoons of hungry times,
Hungry myths.

There needs to be a place of birth
There needs to be a root cellar
Cared and tended for
By long skirts and small hands,
Kept safe underneath the Earth
For futures to survive on the
Preserves of Grandmothers.

There needs to be a receptacle
For all the stories
For all the pain
For all the pleasure
For all the nothingness
In-between
The words.