"stilettoed" poems
She wanders the streets unnoticed
past the news stand
with a front page giraffe
and letters in a foreign language
she barely speaks
sometimes she sits on the edge
of a bench or a litterbox
to rest her legs and her sore stilettoed
feet
She doesn't talk much
she has no friends
just work
and people
even the media
leave her alone
Maybe if she was a giraffe
with big eyes
and an enormous mythological heart
to pump blood through her neck
to her head
and to pump news around the world
Maybe then
someone would notice her?
For what news is she
compared to a giraffe
put to sleep humanely
purposefully
to secure its species
then displayed in scientific lectures
as insight for future generations
and lastly fed to lions
as if it had died on the savanna
But what purpose has she
that girl on the street
other than serving urban lions
she knows
no one will care
no one will learn from her experience
let alone from her death
by lions
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
you could say,
are long dirt roads that never end
trotted on by horses
(you can call them men)
Women
you could say,
are cobble stone streets
constantly impaled by stilettoed friends
(you could call them men)
Women
you could say,
are black tar roads
riddled with curves and bends
plowed on by Subarus
(otherwise known as men)
Women
you could say,
are nice footpaths in the park
run on by children
around the age of ten
(often boys that grow up to be men)
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC