Hayley Green – SST9 – First Draft

1 Jun

You are stilettos above me
I am bare foot, barely standing
rolling cigarettes as if I have more
interest in the floor, watching
my reflection in your 6-inch heels.

Where conversation lingers
stale with cigarette smoke,
you approach me for a light.

Although your eyes spyglass
into question marks,
your questions dance down drains
with your cigarette ash.
You never ask

as if you’re afraid my reply
will be bound with knives.

You smoke in silence,
breathing your questions
into your lungs.

I am more of a drag queen tonight
than you ever were; you are a woman,
boobs, bums and boasting.
I am bare bones, bound bumpy together.

I say
Why is womanhood a clothing garment?
I have been here my whole life,
my insecurities jewelled around
this question.

Vulnerability is a dress
resting just above my knee
where his hand gartered
around my thigh.


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