What Part of No by Patricia L. Hamilton

Don’t you understand?
You could be her grandfather.
Falcon stooping prey.

Fresh-picked berry, crushed.
Fragrant blossom cast aside.
Hummingbird wing, cut.

Cloak yourself in shame.
No excuses. Douse the fire,
stir the embers cold.

Lust exposed to light:
your name a scrap of paper,
shredded. Confetti.

Tattered coat, flapping.
Your days of empire over.
Girls are not playthings.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s