China Doll
walden shank
I am going to love my way out of this if it kills me/ I am going to be kind when it cuts/ I am going to throw away all of my possessions because you touched one/ It hurts to know/ That my feelings are always in tow/ Being dragged around like quarters in a kindergarteners pocket/ I’d say I’m a doll/ If anyone had thought to build me a house/ Dress me/ And call me beautiful.
On Fruit After Clarissa Pinkola Estés
Let me peel apart your body,
Let my bleeding hands,
Caress the tender parts of the self,
Gently as though I am touching, an overly sweet nectarine,
If everything is a door,
Open yours to me,
And we will sit at your kitchen table,
And eat ripe fruit,
The juices will cover our hands,
Red, and daunting,
Passionate and grotesque,
Serious, as steel.
I am Walden, a poet from Albuquerque, New Mexico. I investigate girlhood, isolation, and divinity in the mundane.
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Instagram handle @belovedquixote