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.