I’m certain I’m mad, again
as the daffodils defend
the injured wolf from
the tyranny of fish and scale.
I am a pacifist, you see,
or I’d intervene
but arguing with the sun
seems foolish in
twilight’s gossamer light.

War College is what I’d wanted,
a Ph.D. in laundry is what I was granted
which only proves me crazy
since estrogen is known to be
as stain resistant as steel
to science, logic, and facts.

Meant only to dust them,
never read them, books
are elusive mysteries, my fingers
ache to solve. My wiles fill
every page, yet, I submit
to ambiguity, erased
before I even began.

Collecting stones, like bees pollen
my pockets are festooned
with tomorrow’s life.
I am mad again, certainly,
at captivity and forced ignorance,
and can only hope that heaven
gives women like me
a room of their own
to breathe.

Tamara Fricke is the 2010 co-winner of the Gertrude Claytor Award of the Academy of American Poets and is previously published by The Lyon Review, Meat for Tea, Attack Bear Press Poetry Vending Machine, Whisper and the Roar, We Will Not Be Silenced, and has been included in a number of compilations.  Her poetry chapbook Our Requiem was released in 2014.  She lives in Springfield, MA, with an ungrateful cat, where she writes grants professionally.