Lessons from the bikini contest

They don’t tell you that solitude can be a weapon, a way of making a body feel it must just be me when there were signs all along that

The contest was never what it seemed to be

Resembling a stock show more than a beauty contest

Told to line up

The hand-picked female handler writes numbers in permanent marker

on our haunches

And maybe don’t question too much what the girl in the high heels, glitter, push-up top

Is doing giving free twerking lessons

To doe-eyed coeds

And a heifer like me

Careful to keep my cloven hooves

And rising ire

Under wraps

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s