I am a poetmaster,
flowing through the sea of words in my silver submarine.
Monsters of the deep clutch at my body
but I glide through and surface
gleaming and shining
triumphant and victorious.
My halo of words surrounds me
and lights up my darkest nights.
My body is strong and hard.
My sex is more a just reward for a good man.
My bones are sand in the narrow parts of me.
My voice is writing and sounds and is growing.
I need a voice so I can make changes.
Bitter anger comes low and slow like a shadow.
When I do write I feel free and alive.