Postfemnism
He calls her, "Freckled Fannie," and she winces.
It's a dreadful name, but she still tightly holds his
Hand. He wanted her to change her hair, become
A blonde. She quickly did. He isn't fond of cats,
So she has given up her Isadore. There is, she knows,
A single means of moving from this hopeless place,
Her overbearing family, and poverty. She sees
It's him, so she hangs on, and rushes to him when
She hears that name.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
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Written on 2024-04-24 at 16:26
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