I Think It Is Important To Remind

At Night The Cries Of Cats Making Love Or Fighting, Their Caterwauling In The Dark, Told Us That The World Was Pure Emotion, Flung Back And Forth Among Its Creatures, The Agony Of The One-eyed Siamese No Different From That Of The Lisbon Girls, And Even The Trees Plunged In Feeling.

She Could Become A Spinster, Like Emily Dickinson, Writing Poems Full Of Dashes And Brilliance, And Never Gaining Weight.

Dieting Fooled You Into Thinking You Could Control Your Life.

Maybe The Best Proof That The Language Is Patriarchal Is That It Oversimplifies Feeling.

The Trees Like Lungs Filling With Air. My Sister, The Mean One, Pulling My Hair.