Go on darling, Pray to my polluted skies, Maybe I’ll spit back out the stars So you can tell your kids the stories All of your cultural memoirs Set in a time when you were human When you were mine and I wasn’t yours And you worshiped my body for keeping You alive, but now my curves Are littered with your concrete, plastic, styro- Faux values, pseudo natural standards, And silicone sincerities and to call that ideal It’s just depressing that while you were Undressing picture-perfect consumerism Cathy, You were also stripping my resources, my beauty Bare to the molten bone but if I were to hone In on one instance of insecurity in my Ability to provide for you, to provide For your kind who will come after It affects me more than you seem Bothered, as if it wasn’t you who Will father children who won’t be Able to breathe while walking down The street on their way to learn about How my surface used to be, Who won’t be able to swim In the waters you vacationed In when you were their age And still it brings an insurmountable Amount of rage and pity To my fiery heart, Which is probably why By comparison Yours seems so cold And hard.
Instagram: @ash_lohmann
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