Women dress like birds,
prim and proper,
ranging from
bell shape to slender.
There can be
blush on their cheeks or
soft and vibrant feathers, yet
all their hollow bones are easy to break.
They are raised in the wild,
learning to defend themselves
from both natural and manmade threats
until the pretty women are inevitably caught.
She can’t escape.
You coo, “Struggle harder, you ugly thing.”
She bites your fingers through the net, so
you toss her smaller frame against the ground.
“Women,” you scoff, deducing she must be on her period.
You know in your mind that she’s special.
She’s an exotic breed currently popular on the market.
As a local man, you’re eager to **** out your culture.
Once she is shipped to the underground,
she bounces from owner to owner,
her once vibrant plumage
now grimy.
Once, she catches a glimpse of her daughters,
and they make eye contact, yet they remain
silent
to her call.
She realizes
she doesn’t smell of herself anymore
or where she comes from—
only of the dogs that made her bleed.
Her daughters
wish their mother would apologize
for bringing them into a world where
the woman is contained by men.
However,
did their mother ever
do anything wrong?
The daughters were simply a task.
“Time to move on.”
The mother surmises,
locking away her feelings as
her next shift begins.
You stand
outside of the cage
peering between the bars with your dark eyes.
“She’s too old for me to enjoy now.”
You sigh,
casting a glance to her daughters.
“I’ll feed her to my snake.
These two girls must be fertile by now.”
