Women’s Land Lifer
You’re pouring your heart out
Whilst I’m eating my breakfast.
You are eating your breakfast.
My heart’s breaking it’s fast on you,
Pouring you into me.
The night before, a sex ox, lost inside her reckoning,
(Not cottoning on where sisters by birth really come from)
Has spread my inner wall with elixir from yours,
Lost in a fantasy of future women’s land babes, who
swim your come in freedom.
Lovers who came before wonder
Where on earth you picked me up from.
They chat on your walls as they
conjoin me in their ordinary supernatural bonds.
Tucking me in folds of their miracles,
Your feathered nest of lesbian idols have
Swooned me in love’s beguiling
Smoke, filling your cove.
Outside I pad softly, finding hearts in still life,
A thorn pricks a red globe,
Water shimmers surfaces in
Black lined up buckets against stone,
Rusts of red and green run into each other’s
Slithers on corrugated rolls of roof
Brazening out Welsh winters.
A strong hearted front door
Smiles broad for all those wild enough to make it up the track,
Migrants welcome here, the chipper sticker says above the latch.
Barns spill over bric a brac of sisterhood survival,
A pile of old tyres like 20th century wonders to behold,
The land’s myths and vintage seasons are flames
Like ghosts who linger and singe her open space,
Trodden paths of squelch and sunder for
Any woman to take a tearing swipe at, each time a couple make a go of it.
Remnants, attempts to manifest,
An open yard minus horses,
Memories of skin blooming in sunlight hover,
Planted feats of engineering in each well constructed structure,
Female brawn and ingenuity
In communal subsistence, healing;
Tools leaning against a wall, soon to be at work In the next woman’s hands.
It was the thumb where Gaia went wrong
We laugh, with gusto, crossing the path that leads me to your door
That lowly thumb, lethal.
And every breath I take and every step
Is somehow thick with aftermath.
Hearts suspended in mid air for time,
Love of their lives, like mine, you
Were their becoming, their crossing of their rubicon.
I look into the soft face of your ex
The second she found mine through a lense
Basked in rainbow rays,
Where she sits beside you,
Your gaze lost in your MacBook,
found photograph on mine.
I wish strength to her elbow,
Dare not even imagine the pain she must have endured as separation dawned,
Keenest of keening,
A day I could never wake up to.
I wish us power,
Pray for longevity for our young poly bed,
Your shot at settling down, the tilling of your soil With me and Red.
I pray for sound roots for all our sisters,
The tree of Women’s Land diaspora bracing all future storms in unions of
Maria Andrews from London