bliss station ~ poetry

misogynatomy

she cracks the egg on the lip
of the moon of her head let-

ting the yolk set in the stream
in her braid as toffee wrapper

butterflies from classroom birth-
day charts chase her around

sinkhole pastures as she thinks
how easy it was to call peach
crayon skin & eat happy cake.

~Ajay
17/9/2020