saw this image on a friends blog and it immediately struck me as something I should write about.
early childhood/ late summer life
found you
standing backyard, hiding from
the boys teasing your name
around the corner.
the image of Plath or Sexton,
and sometime
dancer.
but here is what I want from you:
follow though
burn their eyes out,
kick their balls so hard they’ll think of you
fifty years later.
then go
go
go
be someones little girl again
and wait for branches to untie leaves
and wither in fall
before you stop dancing.
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 