Poem: The Woman I'll Be &&

Wednesday, February 12, 1997 - 11:00

The Woman I'll Be

puts her hair up with a comb

of absolute zero, fastens

it with a pack of hounds

until it forms a straight peak,

utters words like a species

of pepper, and has a blemish

on her tongue, is certain


she is not asleep, her love

is like soap, and that this is not

a dream, works as head of the

fire-brigade, knows the correct use

of liberty and that a bestseller is

just words, is never disappointed

and poisonous til treated, can

M.T.C. Cronin

From GLW issue 262