A Woman’s Choice

She peeled back her skin and saw

that she was raw material for a 

marketing machine that would

make a fortune in denying the

fragile existence of a woman 

because she was fitted out in

the wrong covering. 


Leaving her tight skin friends

another floated into money by

stripping out her stomach and

pretending that her body was

a robot’s by oiling the joints

with the catwalk.


They met over a dustbin of lies

where the flies circled the misery

placed on their heads by those

blinded by the balance of funds

and break the beauty and the

gift of those who will die of

the sickness of who they are.