every morning, pick
a weapon of choice:

            the same metal hammered in emotion
prick in different ways.

who would expect
the earrings I push through ears to
some days hang in heavyweight

or why the end of
a necklace would slice lines
from neck to chest in the name of

 today I chose a double-fingered strip of gold
to yoke intention on us both
to prove the strength of my body under pressure

to punch the teeth out of doubt if it dared
masquerade as fate.

Posted by:jasmine

Jasmine is an editor, poet, and community arts organizer. She comes to poetry by way of Chinese music. This blog is a mapping of ways.

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