My Name Is Not Mavis

Coyotes yipped in a frenzy that
Bordered on deranged,
Waking me from a dream where I forgot
To love you in the house of our first marriage.
You didn’t forgive me then either,
As I held the hammer in my hand
Surprised it was there,
Breaking up the sound of
Distant wildness calling me to be free.

Are your days a series of mini love stories
Strung together like Christmas lights
Illuminating the dark evenings just enough
So the ferocious loneliness, a constant bedfellow,
Doesn’t eat you in the night?

Land gives up water
The willows spread their fingers
Doubt loosens its grip.

Every day I think
And find myself no further
While the crickets sing.

I am not afraid of pressing my hand to the hot stove,
Or soaking my feet in puddles I did not see.
I have the courage to rise before the darkness breaks,
And I am fearless when it comes to mailing my heart.

But I could not stand against your silent sword
Of disregard.
To be the old rag that is tossed after
Wiping up a spill that spread with insidious
Intent. If there is such a thing.
Which I then questioned.
Which made me question me,
More often than I had moments left in my hereness.
Making me lose, with great sadness, my heroine status
Over and over again.

But.

Even kneeling or
Flat on my back in the gray dirt of ash,
I whispered to myself,
Remember, brave girl: I am still

I am still

I am

Still.