Let us be lions.
stalking in between mannequins and furnitures,
with mouths like empty gallows,
Frida roars, downing and drowning in sobriety-challenged laughter
Sexton is more kind,
crossing her legs intimately,
and blowing her smoke away.
Child, they say, cut off your hair
and start the game,
Child, they say, get out and flee,
then find a new name.
The graceful heat climbs
the curtain droops like a heavy canopy,
Insistent and spoiled,
it is my fists that touch the ground.
Author notes
Written July 19th, 2006
What did you think
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Wonderful
I loved this poem the interactions within, and well, I'm not sure to be honest, but it was commanding. And it began well and ended just as well.
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