My blackened soul she still shines bright,
underneath yon wicked black light.
I hold out hope that some look close,
past the fluids & trauma gross.
Forewarned is forearmed I tell you now.
There be triggers beyond safe prow.
So many times gone Pow! before.
So much stitching you can’t ignore.
I’m rent & waste of time & flesh.
Naught of mine but spirit be fresh.
Drugged by men & most robbed in course.
Love has long been from me divorced.
Still I hope whether wise or naive.
That soon may come just one lucky eve.
Because planets align from time to time…
& I’ll be there sifting reason from rhyme.
Fishing for proof of a kind, gentle love.
I will find it without Challenge’s Glove.
There to prove my wild dreams real.
There for me at last to feel.
L.B.Stowe 