The Gleam in her Eyes


I cannot pull my hair taunt with gleam.

Never wanted beautiful…with picture perfect theme.

No more to place-mats with Irish names.

No, amen, to turned out, cowered women.

Women of porcelain design.


As sure as, the red river flows.

A Devil may care.

Of that, I am aware.


Two way mirrors, in broken homes.

Little girl games of ‘pretend’ whilst the great divider…

hollow doors,


patiently awaiting barren men.


How silly,

a slim sow,

to place vanity so high.

How pretty,

the little girl poet,

who begs to wonder why.vanity-2

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