thinking
Why isn’t everyone
who is thin
a model
Why if
you can use big words,
don’t you
Why if they have
pairs of lungs
don’t they pull them out
of their throats singing
and strew
them in the gutters and paint
them in the murals on big walls
forever
Why
does she dance african
barefoot on former stained
glass and laugh
when she bleeds, saying,
“you knew this would
happen and you still
didn’t stop me?”
but that only
makes her stomp harder
laugh louder
Why
if I am jealous
don’t I make
love to her and see
if a little bit of her
soul can be in
mine
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