Cycle

by Kellie Lyn Fournier
 
I come from a moment of joy
		that was over the moment he sobered up
I come from a kiss of death
		Medusa and her Black Widow have done it again
I come from the whispers of a ravenís wing
		that told my ancestors to go back where they came from
I come from ashes thrown to the wind and
		butterfly DNA my momma breathed in
I come from the sacrifice and sweat of every woman
		fighting before me, through me
I come from the blood of a thousand sinners
		pumped through the heart of a savior
I come from the labor pains and tore flesh of thousands of vaginas
		before me, my motherís, my grandmotherís, infinity
I come from countless fairy tales that my mother read to me
		filling my head with language and turning me into a poet
I come from words spoken to me of body and cancer and overtaken
		now my grandmother has moments to live
I come from the desire for death from a feminist trap
		revisiting graveyards in a land of frozen corpses
I come from the dreams that are whispered to me from each stone
		passing them to my son as he sleeps
He comes from a moment of joy


© 2001 by Kellie Lyn Fournier. All rights reserved.
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