“Sweet girl” is what boys call meBecause I don’t knowHow to play gamesI can’t measure up to the subtle biteOf wormwoodThe raised browThe cold rolling of an eyeI took sweetness and stillnessDew on the grass on a cool Sunday morningAnd distilled them into a perfumeThat I could wearBut Granny was wrongAbout flies andHoney, thick like tearsAnd new pressed powderAnd “too hefty” laughterVinegar girls do so much better
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Vinegar Girls
November 9, 2022
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