Girdled
She is holding herself in.She began her sham many moons
Before this.
She wants to relax herself but
Her muscles are too sore and
Stretched and striated.
Too girdled is she...
Too trite.
Ungirled
She is waiting for her
Unbeknown right to
Relax her mind.
All becomes dead she notices.
She throws her head back
As she laughs...
When her eyes again glimpse
The horizon
She sees they are wet and her waste
Is girdled useless.
She consults her Confucius
Then pulls on her smile
Sucks in her belly
And faces the world
Unfurled.
Yet unbridled.
Poetry by jenks
Read 459 times
Written on 2009-11-03 at 04:19
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