a poem for today, 10 September 2012
[a syllable sorted sonnet of thirteen sentences and its image]
It’s a bad call.
It drives me nuts.
It's not that odd really.
It can save us from the closet.
It's probably better off extinct.
It’s totally not mandatory.
It isn’t like we aren’t out and about.
It wouldn't hurt to femme it up a bit.
It’s not a good reason under any light.
It's something to have a base for everything.
It's not consent if you make me afraid to say no.
It's the same in every city of the modern world.
I'm picking up those frizzy bits at the same time as I am anchoring it.
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