An invisible girl hides
Between two fences
One painted white, the other
Painted seclusion. She kneels
Before a brick planter
Her altar. She holds
Wanton treachery in her hand,
Pops the bleeding heart
Forces an exhale of shame
From the exposed ovary burst
From its cocoon. She bruises
The soft flesh as she mashes
The petals between her demure
Fingers. The blades of grass
Nestled beneath her salty knees
Melt into the ground wish
To explode around her in protest
Of the buttery blood she’s sacrificed.
She emerges healed
Stares at a mulberry tree.
She craves to be shrouded
Behind her own gate, latched
And locked in haughtiness.
She is maladjusted to amiability
Like a slug who leaves his trail wet
Smooth across the impervious
Concrete, she’s soft and crushable,
But continues reserved and alone.
Hers are the webs of sticky
Velvet string as she wraps
Her feelers through innocent silk
Worms. They try to breathe
Stay in continual movement
Resonate oxygen through their body
Scrunch relax like an accordion.
Their antennae reach for her
Key their bodies boil
Bubble as they wriggle.
They become grout
In her hand.
She is subterfuge. She is
In awe of herself. The insignificant
Grass slides beneath her feet
Like slippers. She thinks
She is justified in her pollen robbery
It shows in her delighted
Smile, the morose throb in her sun
Colored eyes. The blood
On her smells. She’s wearing silk
Worm earrings drained
Of their dignity, bound to please
Her heart lost between fences.
She runs like a rabbit
To the house. Inside mother
Is colorless, lays prone, strains
For qualification. She bleeds
Her heart until she hears the dread
Steps of her daughter.
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