the
fifty-something
couple
below me
have more
[loud] sex
than me.
they
have accents,
smoke
cigarettes,
and I
hate them.
[tho maybe,
they are
something-like
happy.]
—
I,
late
twenty-something
shut-in,
am
decidedly
not
settling
for a partner
just fine
enough.
[for now]
I have
[quiet] sex,
alone,
Which may
Sound sad
In reading.
[tho maybe,
I am
happy too]
“little girls,
don’t let
anyone
ruin
your flowers,”
the woman in
black hood
croaked
during
a lecture
on,
“THE IMPORTANCE
OF REMAINING ‘PURE'”
—
ruler in hand
SMACK
:smack:
SMACK
palm up;
ripe from
the hitting.
—
little girl
looks outside
the school-house
window.
the grass
there
placed down;
forced
to be.
TOLD
to grow,
MADE
to grow,
in these
unnatural
conditions.
—
a single flower
sprung up,
at its
rigid
corner edge.
its petals
stretch their
arms out
to embrace
the suns
hot kisses.
its petals
delicately
laid upon
its base,
none-the-wiser
that
some
call it
a weed.
—
its stem,
totem of life,
holding up
radiant form.
fiber
upon fiber
sucking-up
mother’s
liquid affections
from buried
heart strings.
oh, how it
has bloomed,
unaware
that it
is
—SLAM
:the woman
in black hood
closes
the blinds:
little girl
is scolded
for appreciating
natural beauty.
intrusive
impure
the nun
finishing
her lecture,
continued,
–“AS
I was
saying…
masturbation
is a sin.”
—
#discoverWP
