Throwback Thursday

A poem published in Cirque this summer.  Enjoy and check them out!

Femininity

With my femininity under my arm,

we hustled down the dusty

shell of a broken college town,

past the crooked props

that used to sell feed

and pens to students, where

I offered my femininity to my fiancé.

He refused it.

Passersby frowned and jeered:

The wrinkled grape thought it was

best suited for a child;

Her charge thought that I was just too old.

A fluffy pink, the doll’s dress was

–with pink bows, of course.

Blonde with pigtails, the hair was

–with tight curls, of course.

Shattered sidewalks failed

to absorb the shame,

as my femininity receded

into my ragged college jacket along

with my spent youth

and thrift store receipt,

only to allow patches of its plastic

head and feet to emerge

when I least wanted it.

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