for the sake of tradition
the real queen of hearts is the one who lives in wonderland
the guillotine is still functional if another snow white appears
or by chance a cinderella or the worst of evils a hybrid
curie dickinson saint cecilia
exactly like i was sometimes when it was sunday in my life
and all the burners of my kitchen stove were occupied
and i was singing like betty boop or like maria from the sound of music
sewing roses on a white fabric casting away the clouds
because of pure innocence

but in the big world only big game cards count
the real women know how to imitate the rain the orgasm and the tears
things that the other ones don’t even understand
the world calls the latter lost women and oblige them to pay interests
for every penny given as charity
the more their smile is closer to the virgin’s smile
and their children surely brought by giant white storks
the more the men say that all women are ****s and them the same

therefore all real women stand firmly on the ground
burning off their wings since babyhood
and their men learn to fly because the women deserve to be free
and them not

Categories: My Poems in 2015, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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