I Made a New Mind with the Hatred

And so in the breaking

I made new a mind

And took from the masters

Their surprise

Which as a fellow breakage

Might enter

In the pages. And that’s

The door that opened

For a Poet

The door she Shuts

On her Perpretrators

For Good

For Ever

Like A Sonnet

Never Written

Or Composed

A Thousand Times

Over

To Make A BowTie

Of Evil Shadows,

To Knit in Iron

A Dove

And her Flowers

To Mark in the History

Of Letters

And Humanities

That here stood a Woman

For HER RIGHTS

And WON THEM

Many were her Adversaries

Many were their Methods

Many were their Apologists

Many were their Aiders.

And one little Nerd against the Turmoil, The Tide, and the Grit

Who sang to her Kids

“what makes that little ant

think he can move a rubber tree plant?”

This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.