after Madeline Gins
my name,
Penelope,
belongs to my body
I am 45 years old and have
so many years to live
another name for me might be doctor
I move according to
the gravity of the situation
I am composed of contact points
another name for me might be mother
I try to stay in the moment
I think about that all the time
I breathe with conscious force
I wake up with pain
or lie down with it
wrapping it around me
I married that pain and only death
will part us
let me tell you about
the world we live in now
or the world as it was
poetry has always been necessary
the throat of life
birdlike
stones communicating with stones
but where I am now
is the end of poetry
birds
are the new poetry