Scarlett
Every woman harbors a fragment of Gilda within them.
Our bodies are our pawns, our zippers autocratic.
And we despise the men we love.
Because the men we love despise themselves.
The next branding is nigh.
As we stray and straighten the curve of our spines
In preparation for some unholy communion of minds
With its unattached perils
Its preacherless podiums
And unfettered agendas
Every maker has his mark.
The next branding is nigh.
