wicked wicker women
final lacerations / mimicry; fooled by tall graves for femme emotions; wisteria left at the base — you are a full frontal fornication — you are not the ageless glass stones battered against gums — blood as wisdom pulled from your sockets, placating some other paleness that creeps in some reflections. without a solution, you become entrapped, enraged and sallow. without a problem, you ring bells down mountainous motions. unsatiated, submerged gender, swilling and swashing with desire to pull down a beast, to be spurious and sinless. tie a notch around a woman, she'll burst into flames and take the town with her.
"wicked wicker woman": a poem of a woman's experience. a fluid experience of woman. no easy way to define "woman". sometimes, no need to.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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