Look At Me

Response to “In Blackwater Woods” by Mary Oliver

Look, the person
who occupies
this body of mine
for 51 years

and counting,
woke up today
for herself and
a cup of tea

relished alone
in the hammock,
with her book,
and the dog.

The gentle sway,
back and forth,
of late summer
air,

punctuated
by page turns,
slow sips, and
dog nails clicking,

reminding me
my peace
today
was

bought and
paid for,
for 45 years,
give or take,

with my
performative femininity,
perfect obedience,
proven religiosity,

to the patriarchy
who cashed
my checks on
promises