Adrienne Nadeau was born and raised in the South, but migrated to Chicago when the windy city ruffled her feathers. You can find her representing Tampa, Florida at Chi-Town venues such as The Green Mill’s Uptown Poetry Slam, Mental Graffiti, and Weeds Open Mic Night. Currently she is the marketing coordinator for Chicago Slam Works, author of the chapbook “Myths, Tales, Legends, and Other True Stories” (a Guerilla Poet Production), and an MBA candidate at the University of Illinois’ Liautaud Graduate School of Business. www.TheWarriorWoman.org

Three Poems (March 20, 2011. Issue 26. The SLAM & FLASH Issue!)

Europa & The Bull
(The Tale of Taurus)

The white bull did not smell of farmlands
Not hay
Nor manure
Nor the scent of rutting musk
Princesses should not know
That men's hands and fingers flare with the scent of their work
But I have been touched with stables and with leather
With fields and with plows

My maidens
(too foolish to fear his horns)
Crowned his beastly head with flowers
Laughed at his escape.
I smelled lightning and thunder and mountains
There was no mistake when I touched him
Ovid called my caresses virginal
My demeanor girlish
As if this giant animal
Robbed
Raped
Metamorphed me into woman
But I knew why his bovine nostrils flared with hot, wet breath
As I ran my hands across his skin

I mounted him
He carried me
The tension in his muscular flanks
As he swam through the waves
Was arousing.
We crashed into Crete
My dress dripping
The wet hem of my tunic clung to my calves
He took me.
Not Leda
Not Callista
Not even Hera
Know how the body can stretch in acceptance
How breath can open you
How fingers can cling to hooves and bone
Nails breaking the leathery skin
That the tanner would dry and stretch 
For hours
Recreating this perfection.
He was godly
He loved me when he saw me
He fathered my children

Minos. The Minotaur.
My son
Locked in a labyrinth
Hungering for virgin flesh
Believing the old myths
Never dreaming a woman could grab his horns
With passion
Tilt his great head until
Like a salt lick
His thick tongue found her sweetest spot

Zeus left me with three sons
A bronze guardian
A hunting dog
A javelin that always hits its mark
A promise implied
But I was still a Theban maiden
Married out of obligation
To a mortal
That would raise my sons to be
Kings
Judges
Men able to navigate mazes of confusion.
At my coronation
Zeus gave me a glittering necklace.
Knowing my throat would be bare at night
He marked the dark sky with Taurus
Recalling our tryst
Aligning the stars with our longing.

I, Europa, 
Inspire constellations.
Seek the scent of lightning.
Dream oceans.
Crash waves.
Shine silicate rock.
Orbit my lover
As his satellite
Eternally.

Praise Poem

I am the daughter of deserts
Destined to always shake sand from my hair
I am dye jobs that always let the roots show
Because without honest roots I am a lie
I am the product of lies
That cloaked our heritage
Tried to gild ancestry
But money could make it no more beautiful
I promise you that
I am Jewish with a crucifix and a Hindi prayer
Wailing into crumbling walls
Bending on knees that still genuflect at the smell of wine and wafers
Singing praise from a mouth that still longs for milk & honey
Just enough sweet amber to the cream to match the color of my skin
I am the testament of our survival
Living through prison camps, concentration camps, and summer camps
Crossing oceans, battle lines, and the deep end of the swimming pool just to get here
I am too great a distance
I am too many miles walked
I am sore feet of mothers who stood too many hours
Never seeming to grow tired because their children needed them
I am the daughter of alchemy
Mixing love with flame
Burning energy from exhaustion
I am scientific
A mix of genetics that left me 5-foot 6 of anything but ordinary
Yet somehow the average height of my family
I am the daughter of inner beauty
And breast implants that triggered allergies
Because the women in my family don’t react well
To silicone or superficiality
I come from young love
From love letters locked in the attic
From kisses that grew insincere and sporadic
Because duty mattered more than happiness
I am late-in-life lesbianism
Though we don't speak of that much
I am the full belly fed on money sent cross-country
I am the hands that worked the Hoover Dam
Because the West had gold in the hills. We were certain
I am the regrets
Of too many gin and tonics, betting the pot, and money we didn't have on horses that didn't win
Of smack talk, small talk, and talking back to authority
I will be survived by poetry and blood stains on street corners
Though they put new concrete on the handprints outside my house
I am daffodils and tiger lilies
Not functional but pretty
Cant survive on them
But, oh, don't they make the dark woods come alive
I am sister to tragedy
Stride marked with a slight rush and panic
Am I late?
Am I ready?
I stand strong
On solid too-big feet with ingrown toenails
But, oh, I promise you
Yes, I promise you
I'll walk for miles.

A Woman's Guide to Dragon Slaying

One dozen instructions
For women who were never told
They could slay Dragons

(1) One
Heroines always survive
Should they happen to die
It is a temporary measure
They are revived days later
Do not be afraid

(2) Two
The highest cell in the tower is just a lookout
From there you will see danger coming

(3) Three
If you can not see it coming
Don't let it take you by surprise
Stand ready

(4) Four
Have your favorite weapon easily accessible
I like sarcasm
I keep it in a golden strongbox emblazoned with tongues
I sharpen my wit daily

(5) Five
Dragons have teeth.
And fire.
And claws
This will hurt
You will not come out unscathed
You will come out alive

(6) Six
Keep your eyes open
Dragons will not avoid you
Sometimes they come disguised as friends
Or even lovers
To be sure they are coming

(7) Seven
You look sexy in battle
I'm just throwing that out there

(8) Eight
Your body was designed to survive trauma
Like childbirth
Like heartbreak
Your blood is laced with iron
Your heart pumps outwards from your core

(9) Nine
Have faith in your body's tendency towards survival
It's proclivity for regeneration
Cells repair and rejoin without hesitation

(10) Ten
Invest in black underwear
High Heels
Red Lipstick
And giant fuck-you earrings
This accomplishes nothing
But it makes you feel pretty
When the fighting gets ugly

(11) Eleven
Learn the tricks of navigation
Demons of misdirection are everywhere
Sometimes they hide in your mirror
And they are bitches

(12) Final Lesson
If anyone ever told you Dragons don't exist
It's because they weren't looking hard enough
Luckily the same holds true for magic.
If anyone said that you couldn't slay Dragons
It's because they were afraid of your power
Or thought you might see their true face reflected in your armor
You can escape chains with your mind
You don't need keys to unhinge the locks
Someone out there loves you. Someone out there wants to tell you
So don't stay trapped in keeps of your own making
The bonds are already breaking
If nothing else
Please take that from
A Woman's Guide to Dragon Slaying