No Freedom For the Poor
Your shadow pools beneath you, dignity dissolving as you dance
for men whose respectable womenfolk watch from a distance
no doubt grateful for the fate of birth. You leap
as if to hurtle closer to the freedom shining fresh and green
as peacocks plumage beyond wide clear windows,
men in morning coats standing like rusty barricades intent
on stopping your escape and later, as you lie exhausted,
does your lover count the francs you earn? does he
leave you just enough to buy new petticoats
and pointy high-heeled boots, the soles eventually disintegrating
as will you from years of forced frivolity. Today
your hair is burnished bronze;
tomorrow's lack of hope will dim its glow to grey.
Linda lives in Lake Tabourie, NSW, Australia by the sea. In this beautiful environment, she writes poetry and has recently dabbled in flash fiction. Linda is completing her degree in Creative Writing at Curtin University and enjoys seeing her work published in various literary spaces. She is a recent Pushcart Nominee thanks to the The Ekphrastic Review.
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