Trouble

by Romina Ramos

She was all mandalas and peace
signs, the kind of girl you would find
dancing on the graves of society.

She was recreational and free,
the kind of song you dance to when
you need release. She was euphoria.

She was all pierced tongue and piercing
eyes. Had the type of mind that goes on
for miles. She was the mountain top.

She was hippy smiles and rock & roll vibes
she fucked the patriarchy raw and dry. She was
the type to forfeit the battle in favour of the war,

she was all big dick energy but nicknamed the whore.
She was childless and shunned, exiled from the community
no woman worth her salt would abdicate from this duty.

She was passionate protesting a system
that left her both frightened and fearless,
for all her sins she bore no god as witness.

She was an artist, always on some road
usually on a journey, weary of turning old
of an aborted mission, uncompleted early.