Trade and Transformation
after “The Woman,” dir. Lucky McKee
 
 
A man captures a wild woman,
keeps her strung up in the basement.
She snaps the air as father and son
wash her with hoses, dress her
in a long skirt and cornflower blouse.
 
If she imitates certain sounds, they ease
her chains, bring her food. Their eyes
teach her acquiescence is beautiful.
Though escape hinges on her feet
reaching the floor, her blood kicks not that.
 
Outside great pines sweep obsidian air
and somewhere a creek drags pebbles
to an eddy deep enough to swim in.
Somewhere aches bloom sweetly
in muscle and tendons grip rocks, branches.
 
She longs for familiar water, knows mouth
is her only weapon—sharpness
of her teeth, softness in her throat, mineral
memory to tell her: bite or please.