I'm going home the old way with a light hand on the reins making the long approach.
Women are not supposed to have uteruses, especially in poems.
We are, each of us, our own prisoner. We are locked up in our own story.
The tougher the form the easier it is for me to handle the poem, because the form gives permission to be very gut honest about feelings.
Love, we are a small pond.
Meanwhile let us cast one shadow in air and water.