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  • Janet Orlene

A love poem to the woman I love.

She should have another name,

This woman who lies inside me

She pops out when irate

Or in fury.

But she is me.

This woman is a goddess.

I’m in awe of her, that sarcastic motherfucker! She can spill words with abandon

And not lie tongue tied.

But she is me.

Slaying with a dagger forged out of locution,

She breaks your defences down

With sarcasm and metaphors,

Ah, she is the slam poet,

Not I.

But she is me. Who is this woman

Who comes in like a hurricane

When I need to huddle

But stand up

And face the storm That shakes me?

She is me.


Janet Orlene

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