Imagine the warrior princess
Leaning against a sword almost
As big as she.
Terrible twin breasts
Are barely contained in a brief
Animal skin bra, and her own un-road-mapped skin
Dips into brave loincloth half
G-string, half suggestion. Uncovered
Arms and pole-dancer thighs.
All the boys would want
To be heroically with her. Their fathers, too,
Though they understand that they could
Hold onto their best efforts but a second or two:
Then be bucked uselessly away, an unsatisfied,
Second-rate soul. Her damnation black hair
Rolls unguarded in the wind, ice crystals
Warm in her intimidating braids. Imagine
Her standing shadow-like, alone against sequences
Of monsters and men, an
Occasional witch or dwarf changeling –
But never offset by a woman her equal:
Protecting only against brittle stereotypes,
Not sexual templates.
The sweat of her efforts,
Strangely cautious about where it forms,
To the taste would transform all wounds
Into glorious marks of satisfaction.
Her warrior boots would sport
Five inch heels and her practical
Make up might lean to the dark,
Sultry vixen. Imagine,
She might be the archetype all little girls
Want one day to metrically be.
And yet, she is no one’s daughter.
Ken’s collections of short fiction, “Constant Animals” and “Avenging Cartography”, and his latest collections of speculative poetry, “Victims of a Failed Civics” and “The Book of Robot”, can be obtained from Barking Moose Press, as well as most on-line book outlets. He serves as bewildering eye-candy at his wife’s power lifting affairs, where she continues to set world raw powerlifting records. His poetry lately has been sunning in “Analog”, “Asimov’s”, “Poet Lore”; and his fiction has yowled in “Spank the Carp”, “Red Truck”, “Café Irreal”. www.kpoyner.com.
Show Ken some love at kpoyner(at)prodigy(dot)net.