for Linda Brown

We talked
the quiet women
the timid ones,
who want not to go public
and do.
I confessed to not
believing in my own myth,
she admitted being tired of hers,
remarking that while she did
indeed have a center
it wasn’t operational.
Quiet women
writing poetry
in empty rooms
to put away in drawers,
talked of dinner
or the movies
and vacations
god yes, vacations,
quiet women searching
down dark corridors
neon flashing.
Our skin’s too transparent, Linda
the blood shows through.