The kind of innocence that will grab you by the dick
and stab you in the eye
Because all the best blondes have been brunettes
and learned the numerology of opposites
There is no blanche
There is only conspicuous absence of color
darker folds providing contrast
We were once witches
Then we were sensible and intelligent killjoys
Then they wanted to get away from us
in the arms of a toddler
So we became blondes
Blanche, but you are, you are
a cripple now
Everyone in Hollywood thought you’d be blonde
When you weren’t they whited out your legs
scripts are for the girls, hey, anyway
the women have all agreed to be included as well as subversive
Now, just look at it, all the witches on TV are blonde
Drop the e, bare the roots and become lovable stowaways
demonstrating a desire to shift, to please
or is it a protest: both is neither so, fuck off, I am nothing, or
Please just let us be everything to you, father world
Helen and Marguerite and Shulameth
fuckable baby real girls and war profiteeresses
Are you afraid of me? Will you kill?
Something very unsavory happened to create brunette blonds
Something based entirely on desire
That’s why I am so common and perfect
Everyone looks darker comparatively, including me
In having it all I have shown you how to have it all
an Aztec princess in a corn silk bustle
Self-determining sun pixels blooming into popcorn
Straw so sick, sweet and good to chew
Full corn in the height of a marigold noon
Lemons in a bowl of bathing chicks
Urine in the blue wind
Please join me for I have changed
Colorism swatches
Joseph Smith’s belles
Honeyed promises of bondage, deliver my milk
with iodine, copper and realness