I shared a bed. Some man came and said
he hadn't slept all his life. I gave him some of my night
hours without
even thinking. Wish someone would have warned me.
Now I dream a man's blue-
shaven visions. I can't tell if I'm a woman
or a man in the dreams, but it doesn't matter.
What happens when they mix:
soil, Sister. That's all we've
become. Man plus Woman equals
Ditch Dirt. And this is supposed to be beautiful,
the strongest tonic.
Stephanie N. Johnson
/Beloit Poetry Journal/
Volume 57, Number 1
Fall 2006
3 comments:
playing the field then....
i love the word tonic.
man and woman is tonic for me. i hear what she is saying but for me it is not ditch dirt. its holding hands through hell and heaven. it's tonic.
i do wish he would pick up his wet towels though ...
i like your point
i crave your point at times
i know that the ditchdirt stuff happens
but dirt can be washed
with various substances, lotions, potions, and gin
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