Little Sis

Political poetry.

Little Sis

She stands with her face, facing the south,
the wind blowing harshly blistering her
mouth. She’s the essence of the movement
every curve and rounded part of her body a
story…telling tales that should never be told,
but should forever be heard. She lifts her
hands high to her farther, the sky, her feet
set firmly upon the breast of her mother; with
every grain of her earth caressing…loving. In
the womb of her mother, she loves it. The
safety, the oneness, heavenly; Nay, is she
made of bronze. She carries on her person a
loud speaker and in her backpack molotovs
waiting for targets, and hundreds upon
hundreds of leaflets, pronouncing that she is
“up against the wall mother…” Yes, she is
the one standing in the wind. She cruses
down the interstate with the bumper sticker
that protests “keep your laws off my body”.
She’s the one that every little girl should want
to be, but sadly our little girls watch too much T.V.