© Black Tangled Heart


Manipulated hair kissed by the venom

Of peroxide; ivory skin blanketed with

Brown fingers of forced


(the little girls gape at your body

they discard their sweaters

in favour of spaghetti straps)

Bleeding from a capsule of artificial beams

White to bronze, wrinkles creasing frail arms

Breasts swollen; fat and silicone

(the teenagers push woollen socks

into crème cups

because they see him lick your areola)

Sweat drips

Vehemently across what little clothing you wear

You project an image of blatant sexuality

(exploiting yourself

we'll gawk at your stomach and thighs

rather than hearing your message)

You've smeared the lines of sensual essence

With the crude ripples of your torso

The flip of your tangled hair

(you throw harsh light

onto the prospect

that slithering, saline bodies

are the fuel for your success)

You have broken the skeleton of feminism

With the gyrating motion of your hips

And your obvious talent is smothered

As flesh is exposed, and somehow

Expected to promote power

To the female generation