[untitled]

I am called bitch because the wind wraps around my neck like lace and I will not be choked.
I drench myself in understanding that mountains stretch my spine and anger's stench
spits out all the insults insisting I must fall
accept the way men are
not get angry until steam explodes from my veins
because if I express myself I will be alone or
the only lovers I might roll in rhythm with
bear hips and wombs resembling mine.
even though lesbian is not an insult, I still glide toward the very gender
where some distort my screams
kick in teeth behind closed doors, and somehow twist my name into bitch.

I decide how to show you how close I can come to bitch as a name
how much men and women are the same
I claim my throne where men imagine secrets in my tongue
split landscape so I can find the romance in language
thrust friction into tunnels of untainted veins because the dawn is my
narcotic
discover new breath in the lungs of sisterhood
spew unwritten letters to my sisters returning to me
because I was taught to believe
bitches don't love each other
bitches back bite, back stab, play the back and get hit from the back
bitches wear little else but their skin or they be wrapped from head to toe
talkin about "baby, I love you, you know?"
always proclaiming devotion with uncertainty because
bitches must have confidence sucked from their flesh
their souls savored between arrogant teeth
until bitches begin to relish their title
separating halves of the brain just long enough to let dollar signs and
misogyny
collapse under gray matter

in defiance, I seek the name unsung in too many hip hop songs
I seek the man who loves gumption like water
aspires to be tangled in the lullaby of my womb
sinks into my hypothalamus
makes my neck twitch with memory's touch
he reaches for grins I grow when I watch a leaf idle on the wind
his words trace my mouth
he climbs into my aorta
erases disapproval of free spirit
decimates variations of the icon sculpted into bitch,
then holds onto my heat.

- Tara Betts, copyright 1 May 2000