"Polygamy" (7-Minute NaPoWriMo Poem for April 27)

Polygamy




They practiced in the west
and by Moslem women, refused.
And the Great White Way
proliferated across the plains
in the furrows of one man's escape
and a woman's willing air. Who claims
this heir? Of woman born, and named
by no man, that no man's way
of being invisible in this land. Here,
the broad hips of the breadbasket
girdle around envy. The starved eyes
of silent America play on the jukebox.
Everything empties down the sinks in Little America.
Here, in the middle, everything grows, whole
forests of change wait your burn.
Would you give it a match?
To get by? Over the edge, I prefer
the wedge of the poverty I skirt. Here, am I,
contiguous at last.


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written in 7 minutes for National Poetry Writing Month for April 27

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