wearing those crimson platforms
and you’re sitting in that maple tree
bending your sacrificial knees
you better stop weeping and waiting for
an olive branch to save you
sweetheart, you’re done
you are turning into ashes in my indecisive
hands
put on that denim suit and walk deliberately
without moving your mouth too much
they will take that for weakness
think of sugar and sweet caramel
and castles and fables and snow white
get down from that tree
the worst thing they’ll do to you is strip your festive uniform off you
you can take that, can’t you?