Saturday, November 24, 2012



Birds’ Wings and Dirty Things
Jacqueline S



I think with pride of the silly details

In the clothes I choose, which you never see

As you fight through zippers, buttons, stockings—

Layers impeding your access to skin.

I wore a dress with printed, painted cats,

Panties with upward flying sparrows so

The cats would have something to play with, eat.

I point out this little joke to you; annoyed

You demand: “Bend over and show me your ass,”

And I quickly comply, arching my back

While you do not count the sparrows. You tear

At lace and ribbon, I hold my blank pose,

Thinking (not of you but of cats wounding

Birds’ wings—proudly holding their prey in their mouths).