I cannot wait for my days of purple.
As it stands,
my empty womb and I
have received detailed instructions
to leave the five cats with my best friend
to tan naked in Ibiza.
With breasts and hips that are a little too sexy,
not correctly womanly enough,
to care about this country’s future,
I must party ‘till despair in Cyrene
until I’m finally humble enough
to ask a decent lady for her Crock Pot recipes,
until I too,
with a line of eight little ones,
have staked my colored cotton and hymns
in what really matters,
deep into the ashy graveyard no Tesla driver rubs their toes in.
I don’t even own any purple.
But I shall buy and sport some,
right after I secure the airline ticket and my sixth cat,
until I finally taste spitty milk and vote right,
love right.
— Lux S
A modern reprise of Joseph’s “Warning” honing in on the rising trad wife/conservative movements.
Lux S. is a writer based in Providence with an interest in social movements and the effective responses to hateful pseudo-intellectualism.