Girl in a Stolen Evening Gown::
Analogue to Boy in a Stolen Gown
by Saeed Jones
In this imperial hothouse, I am a pet
butterfly. How I wear the world: sequined hem
flouncing my way through cobra lilies, sweet,
lethal blossoms. I pirouette in a cloud of carnivores.
Woman who is not yet, woman who is yet not, I fight
to undo my antique buttons, peel off the chiffon
yoke I am squeezed into. I wiggle my hips free
from fashion, my bruised flesh flopping out of my steel cosetry. See me. I am ripping apart this slavish silhouette,
loosing the wildness I have tucked up under my wig. Watch me - slip out of this falseness, leave the dress in
its white mess at my feet. I could be a mannequin or I could be the girl wearing nothing at all of theirs, a negligee of my own black skin.
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