Aquamarine Tears

I'm in this world where trees bleed out aquamarine tears I've been left pearls by my pillows as I dream a feminist dream. She was a poet who spoke through screams, contracts with the devil? Words could scald and destroy, clear the paths for the potential of prayers or ashamed limping. Revealing truths we couldn't avoid. Petite, scared, smothered by clarity. Anne Sexton, she could inspire. The ladybugs and the city roaches. A generation with words that never tired, Words that caused the pause. The flying corks at the parties, the crosses to burn her into witchery. You showed the world that pain could transgress. The bravery of words, the power of lewd, the humbling of masochists. You apologized for living and loving, Yet you taught us to pray and keep moving, You reinvented the way we see, The beauty that lies without our frailty. Your words were…