An army of little girls
poke dandelions through the skin of
every man who could hurt them.
Blades in a briefcase, hide several
between their legs
until the wetness chafes her
right where the dark funnels
stop. The big people and his crosses –
armpits made of porcelain then dug
into little girl gardens,
a meadow of dandelions scrawled:
we do not give you ourselves
but we will give you our blood.
Their masculine fingers could not win,
too harsh for bald skinned little girls.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
An army of little girls
poke dandelions through the skin of
every man who could hurt them.
Blades in a briefcase, hide several
between their legs
until the wetness chafes her
right where the dark funnels
stop. The big people and his crosses –
armpits made of porcelain then dug
into little girl gardens,
a meadow of dandelions scrawled:
we do not give you ourselves
but we will give you our blood.
Their masculine fingers could not win,
too harsh for bald skinned little girls.
