She Is Sci-Fi
She stripped off her
retro boots - ripped up
her nondescript Sunday suits,
trashed her ugly
dresses - burnt
the dark cuttings from
her tresses - now short
dyed ocean blue -
in futuristic design she
put on some devil horns and
a wrought iron spine of
prickly thorns -
square shades and
silver-glittered roller blades,
giant collar and shoulder fakes,
face paint and wings of snakes -
open jawed,
she flew with higher birds, and
with her sabre sword she carved out
the words in the sky -
I am sci-fi.
