What I’ve got they used to call the Blues

the spirit of her

chaste

young

body

rests behind my slanted eyes—

a geisha

with

porcelain skin

and a heart painted onto

her

voiceless mouth.–

so graceful

as she

dances with paper fans

in silky robes.

—sleep —

—sleep—

For I am strong.

A woman

with feet unbound.

Legs bare

hands free.

And she

is

–a face

weak

and wading

in the milky water

Sunday Morning by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: The Porcelain Mist by Elle Hanley Photography