you see how cute she is, and how hopeful
even though there is very little chance of squeezing free of her frame.
this frame is a product of corruption,
not the corruption of rust and decay,
but thieves who break through and steal,
thieves whose relationships and connections get them spots first in line,
thieves whose power creates for them more power,
who grow their estates larger and larger at the expense of small others,
many of whom are those who carried us in their bellies,
fed us when we were the youngest,
didn’t abandon us when they easily could have,
didn’t beat us,
didn’t shout at us,
didn’t back us into corners with their muscles,
stalk us into places we didn’t want to go,
but couldn’t avoid.
you see she is hopeful someone will come and rescue her,
that would be me,
her and anyone else of the weak, and the weary,
dispossessed of rights, gender, access,
penises and hereditary power.