Temoignage

What is there but man in the world (there are not
Women and it breaks my heart to say it,
Because it is the light voice of my sister
That’s traipsing by the willows
And the grave. You think we don’t know
Women, who will always occupy the starting line,
Women who came always before
And will become after?)?

But if there are houses that settle in like a man
With kitchens that touch you like wrinkled hands
And glasses like the doors of tombs turning grass:

I wish there were two suns and two moons,
And between the moon,
A dark, lush place to rest.

Take this to my sister, and with it a key:
She will know what to do.