A Cold Wind Runs

A cold wind seeps through the buttons in my dress,
Filling the linen with dark air
And making my flat chest robust.
A little like a super hero, I think.
I’m super woman now,
No,
Super girl,
Because my chest is only air, silly,
A little spacious in my dress.
Maybe I should trade out linen for your bathing suit.
Costume?
Super suit, true.
Maybe a mask would make my case,
To hide my eyes so drunk with stagnant air.
Maybe the little ant people in the street
Could look toward me on my perch,
Could wonder who that girl
So filled with air could be,
That girl in the air—made from air.
Yes, they’ll all wonder who she is,
How she didn’t (maybe couldn’t) see
A villain with flaming touch?
She wore her mask but void of holes,
She wouldn’t dare release to earth,
The pressure in her head.
Perhaps they’d cry a bit
And sigh a bit
And try a bit
What a little to forget,
That fallen hero girl.
(I know they could do it—if they truly try)
So give me back my linen ma’am
I’ve grown so tired of being your example.
Won’t you but squeeze me void of air and moisture
That clogs my chest my skull my eyes.
Please
Deflate and dry me ma’am
I’m safer on the ground





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