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

Poem 1249
Amsterdam, 2017-04-02

Collection: Eyes lips chest and belly 
Keyword: Fear: uncertainty 
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