There is a raging fire
inside of me
My daughter yells from
the back seat,
begging me to open
the car window
as we race down the highway
in the middle of our Arctic winter.
“It’s too hot!
I can’t even stand it!”
she insists.
It must be that scorching
feminine energy
I concede,
as I feel the bitter cold
finally reach my cheeks and fingertips.
that I rarely can explain.
A fire so hot
that I must stand
outside under the stars,
in below freezing temperatures
with my bare skin exposed,
as to not burn up inside.
All the while,
I do not pass go
or collect two hundred dollars
as I sit cross legged
on my living room floor
playing monopoly
through the afternoon.
All the while,
I wash, dry and fold
another load of laundry.
My daughter yells from
the back seat,
begging me to open
the car window
as we race down the highway
in the middle of our Arctic winter.
“It’s too hot!
I can’t even stand it!”
she insists.
It must be that scorching
feminine energy
I concede,
as I feel the bitter cold
finally reach my cheeks and fingertips.
-Me
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