We Bitches
Even a charming
little girl will
print a few
well-chosen words
neatly fold it
into a star and
disseminate her
harm. We know
how to ruin a
reputation. We learn
to play it in the
schoolyard.
Her name
sounds like stink.
His eye-ware
is hilarious.
We grow-up
to make-up
assumptions
that are sounder
than children’s.
His middle
name is unfaithful.
Her marriage
is laughable.
We die
without ever
knowing
what is said in
one’s obit.
She often kept
to herself. The bitch
knew how to
choose her words.
— Anna Guzon