Good girls
Don’t masturbate
They don’t politely rub themselves for hours
In the steam of locked bathrooms
Where no one can hear their need
Good girls
Sit cross-legged, thighs touching, wondering why
They feel bereft
Reminded that sex and its pleasures
Still considered a sin of sorts
When in doubt show comportment
Good girls don’t
Cut themselves and hide the blood
They don’t scream behind crimson closed doors
Chop off their hair
They don’t lose their shit in public and get asked
Are you okay? / Or worse … / Walked past
Good girls hold themselves together with stick pins
and butterfly wings, egg shells and lost names
tar and soot, the remainder of hope chest
stuffing leaking out like snow in 80 degrees
Even as their feathered heart and roiling ocean is fit to burst
Good girls starve the fat bits and cook them slow
God knows know how to please others
Even as they climb further down the hole
And I would say
If you are in need of feasting
Feast on me
There’s white meat and brown
Though dried up and dessicated, none the less
They invite the stranger to sup at table
Though my teeth are small and I whistle in my sleep
Good girls wish to matter to someone
And if they do not
They climb inside a foreign language
Speaking upside down in glue
Let me lap up
This spoilt milk and curdled cream
Good girls may not have been
Tenderized as well as beaten veal
Their warrior hearts may defy the need
To bow and scrape and lose identity
In rush of elbows, knees and worldly zeal
They may
Save their patchwork daughters
They may turn and talk to you on a bus
As it rushes through the traffic like a book of poetry
They may touch your arm and ask
Do you feel as I?
Would you wish to cry?
And hold it in a blue dropper
Waiting for a quiet moment to pour out
Disguise the truth of thinly held together madness?
Good girls may be caught
In-flagranti and rolled over iron bed frame
In contorted pose of acrobats anquish
…
Many will say afterward
What happened to her? She seemed so well behaved
Before she became a whore.slut.fool.puta.cunt
Good girls may shout
From their confines in grimy mental ward
Behind glass only appear to mouth
Words of female repression and horror
For as a man will take his wont
A women doing the same, is twice judged
By her sisters and herself
Learned behavior owned by masters
Who seek to extricate her voice
The touch of a wave as it crests
Furiously over those barriers we believe
Protect us from harm
She is despite this, a creature of the sea
When they eventually tire of her
She finds salty pathway and is reabsorbed
Good girls are black pearls
They are made by rolling in worldly grit
Until they glow dark beneath the storm
