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Greg Laswell- This Woman’s Work (Kate Bush cover)

medical-heart-ekg-illustration

A woman like me should look both ways before crossing a street, but sleep in the center of her bed. A woman like me should be grateful, having had two great loves while most women thought to have wished for only one. Instead she is tired of her details, of training those who will be tediously attentive to how she likes the shades drawn but will become insulted on behalf of the light when they comply. A woman like me employs many but when she loves, becomes a servant. A woman like me vacuums her home barefoot and leaves a trail of crumbs. A woman like me whitens her teeth while watching the evening news where an anchor narrates the story of a ship which sank and then claims not to know why.  A woman like me rescues a gnat from drowning in her glass of chardonnay believing that between the bottle and saving a life, the kitchen is further away.

She should have a cat who hides in the closet when it rains and spend the duration of a storm with her hand under the door.  A woman like me has no idea how to comfort herself.

She should listen to jazz during the day and not follow the saxophone’s indulgence to wander. She should play piano with forty fingers. She should eat avocado by the half, tossing out the other tricked by a pit into ripening. She should spread herself under the sheets. A woman like me doesn’t roll over; she waits to move into unoccupied spaces once they’ve cooled. This is how a woman like me remembers herself after a man like you.

A woman like me has her heart sketched on a scroll of onion paper like a skyscraper drawn by an architect who has never held a hammer. A woman like me draws her heart as a four-roomed tower and paints the walls mushroom color because grief isn’t red or blue, but a vow to be bored forever. She has stilted it even though it is near no ocean. She is prepared with closets and she wishes for hurricanes. She has a staircase that winds upward to the roof. A woman like me doesn’t design a way in or a route out. Outside, the highway roars like an artery without a destination.

posted by holly

One Comment

  1. chuck weiss wrote:

    I’ve convinced myself that I’ve most likely enjoyed every wonderful song by Tori Amos, but here comes a tune I’ve never heard before … and it’s just perfect. Thank you for that moment of brightness on this overcast Los Angeles morning.
    There are three women performers I will someday see live before I die, one of them will be Tori, one will be PJ Harvey, and I can cross off my list Bjork as I was able to see her a few days ago when she was in LA. Thank you again for this little Tori Amos gem.

    Friday, June 7, 2013 at 9:23 am | Permalink

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