Whole Truth

Ms. HaikuMs. Haiku Washington DCPosts: 7,039
edited October 2018 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
Women cup stasis years, but are summoned by moonlit
mornings recommending deliverance.
I consume sweets and dive under blankets. I cocoon
within four walls thinning to paper. I taste fire.

Dr. Blasey Ford speaks and I listen.
My fingers stretch towards paper and pen.
Her right hand up bolts fire against the sin
of a man who crushed time in covered screams.

The smoldering years reflux 1986
to a girl in math class, and boys forgotten,
who chucked their names, and trained her night with assault,
assault, and assault of derailed mankind.

The cruelty baffled me, but it failed to make
any high school syllabus. The boys floated
like mold, with their arrogance worn like crisp straw hats,
presciently burned by women with mics.
There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
Post edited by Ms. Haiku on


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