UDE UGO ANNA
When the world says it desires open women,
I guess it expects trashcans that have lost their lids.
Those who wear their hearts on their sleeves
Are those who have ‘grown wings’.
Iron woman? Hang that on a tag.
Allow me remind you that I’m not candy,
Maybe I’m, but not for your mouth.
I choose whose –
Peter-pan, sir!
I’ll sew your shadow to the wall,
Once it looms and causes me to become smaller
And the air, tight.
I will bare my teeth and fight.
Phew! No access.
Keep your conceit to yourself.
Beep! Uncouth joker here.
No access.
Phew! Park! Slow down.
No smiles here.
There’s nothing.
Nothing to smile about.