a man hits a woman just to
feel power. it’s ok, little girls are
wonderfully filled with helium.
ribbon is weak as a father’s
inhibition; skin on skin sounds
remarkably like string snapping.
little girls are filled with helium;
little girls are up up up and into
the stratosphere. little girls meet
god long before a father thinks of
repenting.
little girls are dollhoused in their
own heads. plastic hands are
violently docile and complacent;
little tetherless beings master
puppetry. strings are everywhere,
are everything, are reaching and
pulling. invisible forces little
girls can wrap their fists around.
here, little girls are power.
here, little girls are godly.
here, little girls are in between.