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I had a dream you were strong.

Your face hard set; determined.

On each side, left and right, you swung

great arms like plows.

Your voice commanded.

People did all you told them to do;

your expression would not allow them to choose otherwise.

With a straight back, you made the whole world obey –

as a wayward child must.

Mother,

no more victims are we!

Not with our face nestled against your breast.

Yes, even they were changed.

They stood seeing, judging all the backward alleys.

(Those who sat elected wrote on paper,

passed it down,

sending messages,

but you tore them –

scattering their decrees like cards in the wind

without anchor

while you stood tall.)

Let all the false world be skinny,

let it waste away like a waif,

float aimless as the breeze and fade

into nothing; size zero.

Now, my hips swing like the tolling of the freedom bell

announcing this good news:

The Goddess Venus walks with strength

through the fiercest wind; Mother.

Let her pull me to her side and comfort me

in her Italian arms once more.