I have watched the glory of the brightest star
but never came close enough to touch its fingers,
searched the realms that inhabit its womb
or even felt that wildly virginal lust, because
I think this personal résumé is gauged by the sum
of all my human inadequacies and lost challenges
against mythical idols, godly super-heroes of media,
that in a quest like a holy grail, I strive to find
myself in the me, writhing inside my very core
hiding as a porcelain doll, face unmoved.
Fuelled by relentless doubt, I have no name
which can define my worth as a child-woman,
an artist, a lover needing to taste the fire of life.
Moths nibble my pores, staining my old dress...
while the luminous star passes me by in a flash
as if to leave me naked again, infertile among weeds.
F.J. Thomas' I Spit Fire Contest