It suffocates, costume-strapped and belted,
a hotbed between pearly thighs.
The labia lift when she spreads, a panting puppy
collared and chained, pulls to escape,
gyrating to the backbeat and the heat—of the lights
while the world watches, her feet stamp
in and shut them out.
Trish Hopkinson has always loved words—in fact, her mother tells everyone she was born with a pen in her hand. She has two chapbooks Emissions and Pieced Into Treetops and has been published in several anthologies and literary magazines, including The Found Poetry Review, Chagrin River Review, and The Fem. Trish is co-founder
of a local poetry group, Rock Canyon Poets. She is a product director by profession and resides in Utah with her handsome husband and their two outstanding children. You can follow her poetry adventures athttp://trishhopkinson.com/.
Related