The New Amazon
By Linda Neal
Both male and female,
cut down the middle,
this half the man—
she points to her bony chest
this half the woman—
she touches the breast that remains
above the flat plain of her body and
says her essence contracts
to contain the pain, she's freed
from expectations of joy.
She embraces the dance with chemotherapy,
eats brown rice and fish
and flies to a guru in a far-off land.
She grows accustomed to the loss.
She's no region for milk, her body
shrinking to make room for more loss.
The hour of the new amazon
to step forward has come—
with a warrior's bow drawn,
against her flat chest.
She cultivates her garden
and pulls stray weeds from her life,
grabs at words,
rock, ocean, tree
and prays she'll make sense
of her body parts, uncover a truth
greater than medical mythology
or phallic dominion. She'll reach
for the life within the life,
as she traces the outline of one aureole
with her fingertip—
the rich mandala that remains.
Source: https://www.bloodrootlit.org/linda-neal/
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