On the farm, it's rabbit pie day

But the poor little rabbit didn't know that.

She missed the memo, too absorbed in gathering carrots

To think about the path she took home.

The farmer was out with his friends, laughing with a cigarette

Dangling from his lips. He was looking for the perfect morsel for his

Wicked pie when he saw the little rabbit snuffling around in the bushes.

...

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youre a good little girl,

he types.

youre submissive arent you, 

he moans, over text.

he expects a beguiled, 

blushing emoji in response.

what he gets is three dots and an empty silence so loud he remembers what he is.

a greasy teen (21 years of age).

a lusty manchild looking for another child. 

he tells me im a cute and submissive girl, 

with luscious milk bags. 

...

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curled on a velvet chair

in a darkening room

is a monstorous teen. 

outside the blackening,

is a fading pink sky.

the clouds within whisper to shepards, 

"Delighted I Hope"

and on the highest grassy hills,

the shepards face eternity.

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floating in that acrid pool of nothingness, 

a feather kissed the tip of my nose and whispered softly over my face.

in that moment, decided. 

i watch the village of women who surround me each day, 

awash with a soft awe at their mossy eyes and woolen hands. 

i link arms with the girl i love most on a late night walk, 

running from the boy who asked me to give apart of myself.

...

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ive been invited to a party this saturday. 

i think i will go, 

i think i will get as drunk as i can. 

to feel the painful crushing weight of the sunday hangover. 

im going to act as if i am in a french film. 

i will tell each person a different lie, 

tell them something i've made up about myself. 

these people dont know me. 

dont know me at all. 

but whats more lik...

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charcoal toothpaste. 
teeth whitening strips. 
water on a bathroom floor muddied with muttered songs. 
cans of who and why on a windowsill. 
forehead sweat. made to stick fringes.
quick to anger. founded in a parent not so unlike. 
jerking awake. jolting asleep. comfort nul. 
calm mornings when the sun alarms. 
evil feelings when green and yellow lie dormant. 
stuttered uttered eye contac...

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You are a woman,

beautiful,

      black,

   God’s masterpiece,

    created with

    majestic power

       and divinity—

   The type of woman

   who could never

          be tamed

                           or possessed.

   One deserving of

 love, respect,

and civility.

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It's good to be a woman at 30 years old.

 You can even ask for vodka to be cold.

At thirty you have something to surprise,

And see the excitement in his eyes.

When you are forty he nervously trembles.

 Hundred-year old man with Viagra gambles.

It's good to be a woman at the age of fifty

 Climax has already passed, you are shifty.

It's good to be a woman at the age of sixty.

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I.
How does a girl become a woman?
The first time her royal blue skirt
Was stained with drops of blood
Tainted childhood's innocence
Of fertility's awakening.

Rules had chained her feet from crossing
The bridge towards a boy playing
His piece in a saxophone
Lullabies of attraction
A petty love from the ashes of lust.

Chains rang as she heavily walked
Up the stairs of her fantasies
...

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