I am a well-groomed Catholic school-girl who listens and follows God’s path at the discretion of the church.
I am pious and chaste and godly.
I am an onion – layered and deep and strong and smelly.
I am a woman who knows her place in a beautiful space and knowing my place.
I am cut and dry and black and white and white and black, casting a grey shadow on the concrete.
I am a part of it.
I am in it.
I am in need of that connection.
I am that hug and hand holding.
I am flesh that can be damaged.
I am flesh that is damaged.
I am an astrological tiger.
I am Chinese in origin.
I am that winning tiger, the majestic tiger.
I am words on a page and pictures glued down tight.
I am the ghost.
I am the smell of fresh linen and baby vomit.
I am the dog’s tongue after a drink.
I am spinach sprinkled with garlic and perhaps a glass of juice.
I am the flagstaff.
I am a whistle in my ear.
I am the wind through my window.
I am a sour sponge or my prickled skin.
I am the dry skin on my heels.
I am the water in the tub.
I am purple roses and colored friends.
I am French fries, green blankets and a brown sleeping bag.
I am the twist of a thing that is spun on its top.
I am the waves.