Mud on the carpet

Photo by Aian Tabor

By Molly Zofia

I waited in all manner of places

For a good day to begin.

Basking in blue laced lights and 

A lust for liberation from 

All that could be defined by my superiors as 

A good day for a girl

Enveloping our wrists and waists 

With surgeon-like conformity.

I turn from ill-fitting gaze and

fears of fragility.

They have never been my heroes-

Though I am told they should be.

I choose to find my good days in the 

Disquiet defiance 

Of those who

Drag mud in the house and

Smear their names on the walls.

Unabashed… at last.


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