~After Black Country, New Road
Difference is the enemy.
A spaceship shot down;
the songbird lost at sea.
Foreignness can’t hide,
and I am weary from worrying.
Memory gone a day too long;
time tossed in the trash heap,
and I stand in solidarity
beside the cow,
but I’m no longer making milk.
My femininity
a few feet from the firing squad
waiting for rapid fire
or a hail mary
from a phantom savoir
at warp speed.
©2023 | K. Hartless
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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