Ode to a White Girl

Samantha Geovjian Clarke

Oh, but

the sum of her parts--

something amounting to nothing,

if nothing can be called destruction


sweet nothings

meaningless touch

coiled hair weighted by pale skin

and false purity


there are tears,

but does she mourn?


It’s not really who she is,

but how--

how she learns from users

how to use


how she learns from the used

how to mimic survival


how anything can be used as a weapon


I’ve always thought it was funny

how she can pirouette but she can’t dance

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