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On Edge

Bruised hip bones

Perched like a tiger

Low lying fruit.

You, girl with the good legs but too much hip.

Too tall, with a nice neck.

Long hair, not smart enough.

I am telling you to

Fit into my hand, my pocket, my mouth.

Be braver, own the room.

Not like that.

Your body is a weapon.

You are being led to the gallows.

Cold hands, try to smile.

Not. Like. That.

Too soft in the middle.

Both hands up,

two more wrapped around your throat.

Why so on edge?

© Elizabeth McLaughlin|May 16, 2018


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