like animated paper clips
the characters dance across the screen

mockingbird, sing me the song of
sticking to the rules so closely
the plotline has become your spine

hunter, tell me the story
of how you fell in love with the prince
instead of the princess
your dreams cropped of golden locks,
stripped of frilled skirts and
milky mounds of womanhood.

and writer,
put aside your book
and play your violin.
Canon in E for extreme
will do quite nicely.

And you.

come play in the land
of not-canon fanfiction
where children are never children
and lips sticky with sugared dates
belong to only man,
not woman,
only man.