Zywa
Stepgranny
Tramps are the fairytales of the city
thinly disguised threats, grinning
teeth over my pram
Why don't we do anything about that?
I have so trained myself in just
being nice like a pansy
strong and unaffected
by storms of wounds
amorousness and resistance
I have so trained myself in
smiling thoughts
but a child, my child
will not kiss a pocked toad
or vagrant prince
no matter how true it may be
that evil fairies, old queens
witches, hungry giants, and wolves
just are my fear
of empty, exhausted love
Just are my fear
|