Defying the anger of the stormy winds
swearing at her erectness
she stood her ground on the rockface
stony woman, unafraid of raging seas, frosts
ships crashing at her feet.
With one eye winking/flashing, circling
she warned them of men with mustaches and machetes
marauding naked shores far below the banks
where caves in seawalls collided with the rumble
and dash of waves of protest. Nothing moved her.
She stood, solid as the ten commandments
unminding of the raging storms
doing her duty, flaunting her skirts
and dank steps up her heart which
stayed unflinching.
She was all my new woman wanted to be.
st, peters basilica on this rock
holding the keys to my souls entry
into her private heavens
a house with many mansions.
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© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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