fragment

i have known rageful men
and bottled up women
who live with them,
and sometimes
die of it
years later---
a long death,
a death by inches.

i have know such women
suddenly soar free,
spirits bright as sparks,
offering their old lives
to the flames of a new day.

myself,
i keep my heart in a jar
these days,
the jar in a box
the box in a cupboard
that locks, in a hut
abandoned on a mountain-top
at the ends of the earth...

i'll not be a moth
beating against a lighted pane
coveting a cold comfort flame
flickering deceitfully
in those houses,
anything but safe
no matter what they say.