Zenith. I shave my hair and soon I am

made dangerous. After the gendered lyric,

oh, miraculous fugue that saves the earth,

no. Nails to hang your kill.

I polish my fingers and soon I am made

plastic. After the gendered lyric,

ecologically, opal stretching over an eternal

universe, no. I am hysterical, embellished,

violent, fanatical, melodramatic, mad,

stylistic, concrete, certain, and flamboyant,

after the gendered lyric. I repeat myself,

making the alphabet over and over, no. I make

a cage. After the gendered lyric, anxiety

of animal. You put all of the cows to sleep

and now I begin to pray. After the gendered

lyric, Holy Hosanna. In an act of contrition,

I memorize my mother and father patterns,

no. I wash my face with the paper the butcher

wraps the meat in. After the gendered

lyric, the bow and quiver. I hate allusions,

no, I do not shout the names of saints, I do

not disappear that way. After the gendered

lyric, I do not use the word daughter. You do

not use the word mother, no. After

the gendered lyric, I almost title this Elegy

I almost hear the words confessional and delicate and truth about the female body.