Dear Nangi (To My Sister)

Woman1

Find love,
The type that presses upon another,
And trembles like a blade of grass
Upon the wind, and manifests
In the smallest acts; Sister,
You’re meant for far bigger things.
Possess an eye made of mercury,
Lips made of sculpted manganese,
A body made of magnesium.
And let your heart be broken once,
So that you can reshape her walls,
With Plaster of Paris. And one day,
When you’re in the shadow of
The Eiffel tower, you can become like those
Tulips, that metamorphose to pitchers
Upon rainfall; wet like a body,
In her most carnal ambition,
As you let your eye salvage,
The beauty of another’s imperfection,
Letting him, gift you a pair
Of dance shoes, and dance away
Until everything else is forgotten. Sister,
Memory is a narcotic, and snort it all in,
As you remember your first dance,
Your first step, your jive, as you
Let your hips delight your heart.
So let the organic, become
The stolen moment, let a good man
Steal your prized possession, let
Your chastity belt be unlocked,
Like a prisoner’s chains, as you walk
Out like Godiva, to a world
That will see your shame,
As courage.