In honor of Eve, here is a poem that I have been working on. I am still not "finished" with it. Or perhaps it is not yet finished with me!
The Scent of Belief
for Eve Ensler
My vagina speaks two words from the pulpit of her: "I believe!"
Hallelujah! Praise be to the Living God
on High from High,
I have found the scent smack between my warm white thighs.
Pink-folding rose purpled red, brown-bleeding,
ocean depths of deep-crystalloid wet,
ripped from cry of laughter
that stinks up,
wretched river of sweat,
civilizations gone into your wide-mouthed face,
deep into the proteins of your rusty-forgotten red soul until
you cannot stand hushed before such truth—
Wash over me! You on my skin gentle, skilled. Deep down water. Yes, yes.
That smell, my smell,
you can name it now.
Alluring-repulsive invitation with waxy seal, always there, unspoken.
We believe you will beg,
lament on hard—blistered fists pounding and kneeling—sore knees aching,
for sugar blackened incense.
Agitated, never right, no peace. Only impressed upon.
until you too find your voice,
find your words stolen, and then
through folds of bruised flesh collapsing in praise: