Tag Archives: identity

bee sting

My currently hideously swollen ankle (see attempted matricide) reminded me of the last time I was stung by a bee, and decided that I really needed to get rid of my hive. This is an abridged version of the poem I wrote at the time:

My hand slowly swells
as the venom spreads,
until, stretched smooth,
all the wrinkles disappear
and all the tiny hidden scars
stand out clear –
my history, written on my hands. Continue reading

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leadership training VI

The last leadership training session was this week, so here’s the (w)rap-up to the series (sing along with me):

I don’t need your SCARF
wrapped around my neck. Continue reading

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leadership training IV

 [an owl,
I fly through a window Continue reading

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identity I

Identity accretes
like the scraps on the shell
of a decorator crab: Continue reading

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Filed under musings, poem