ya mama got jell-o feet w/ fruit in the toes.

there was something in her that welcomed winter this year. she lived last winter with the warmth of arms around her that kept her from learning of the redeeming qualities of ice and numbness. til then, she had been water, easily heated, in need of some container to give her shape, and always thirsty for sugars and creams, anything to dress her up, to fill her. now she lingered at room temperature, at the mercy of the changing season. winter would bring stability.

she envied trees.

whatever warmth they needed, they found in themselves, she figured; they were brash enough to let go of their leaves, the dancers that clamored around their limbs and branches, dancing to block out the breeze and keep the core dry when it rained.

year round, they stood silent, watching things die without worry. they saw love turn to dust before their eyes and without their tentacled leaves, felt nothing. it was they who did all the feeling. it was they who reacted to the breeze. in winter, trees crave ice to help them better withstand the elements; they thirst for numbness to fuel their arrogance and insulate them til thaw.

she wanted a chance to thaw. she tried desperately to stop the hot flow of the rivers beneith her skin, to chill the directionless passion eating away at her heart, to shake loose her own leaves and lock her own bones in place and lean them against the wind while her trueness slept quietly in a ball in the warmest part of her, hidden away til things changed.

perhaps winter would help her.

and in spring she wld buy her own flowers; she wld not depend on being handed them by man or earth

and when he finally began to see her again, her, and not what she had become, and when he gave her the shy, timid smile he gave her before love ravished them both, she wld give him a daisy or a primrose

but she wld always save the sunflowers for herself.

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ya mama got jell-o feet w/ fruit in the toes.

10.15.2006

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