Muliebrous
Dale Neuringer
I made you in the image of myself
We had nine tails
With your fox eyes
With your fox scream
We were silver like rushing water
We were white like grains of rice
I shifted, and my breasts became granaries
Which in many ways they already had been
The granaries became fur became padded feet running
History did its best to repaint me in shades of male and we
The foxes, we the women, we the guardians of the table
Screeched into the night and built
Temples, dens
Which in many ways we had been building since the dawn of time
I like to look down and watch the hair grow on my chest
Watch me dip my body into my daily bath of rice
The hair slips off like dawn slips off of night’s lap
I wish on my jewel and the foxes
Come running back
Carrying tales of men hiding in the flesh of women
Of women who saunter in the bodies of men
And worshippers,
Always alone in the dusk light
Always whispering to my foxes of the foods they want
Served to nourish their children
I made all of them in the image of myself
The roasts, the rice balls, the children, the fathers and mothers, the soups and
The foxes, always the foxes
Run my silver chariots
Run to Los Angeles and tell them about me
Run to Kyoto to remind them how far I have come
Cauldron Anthology
23