My mother thinks I'm schizo and my aunt says I'm condescending. My sister just thinks I'm a fucking bitch.
In you bottled up is a woman peppery as curry,
a yam of a woman of butter and brass,
compounded of acid and sweet like a pineapple,
like a handgrenade set to explode,
like a goldenrod ready to bloom.
Marge Piercy (1971)