Small
Precise in her hearing
And seeing
She asks herself how
Her thoughts connect
To a man like that
Swiping the skin of a
Female
Assuming a voice
From one of the deprived
Awaiting a dream
She looks
For Persephone
The feel and spirit
Of her
Safety and destruction
Hones to a biting
Devastating satire
Born of the grief and glory
Of the fourth world
She fearlessly carries
Her soul
Words bump and lock
Together
With a shortness of breath
Beneath the
Soil