Kill It With Fire
A good old-fashioned bra burning
How many layers
Constitute acceptable?
What fabric is most modest?
If my underwear is antique
are my values antiquated?
What if I create a
futuristic contraption
just to restrict
mammary gesticulation?
Would that be
labeled a “torture device”
on par with the brassiere
or good old-fashioned corset?
If a thousand sheer layers
obscured my nakedness
would you still cast shame
upon my meager frame?
What inherent paradox
is stitched into the fabric
of the strap?
That mystical elastic
which proves adherence
yet incites a mob riot!
How many questions
can one human endure
regarding a supposedly
private set of spheres?
What if I built a
bonfire with all the
silk and underwire?
Who’s to stop me
aiming all the inflammatory fuel
I’ve ever been doused with
at the center
lighting a match and watching
the ribbons flutter
in the blistering wind
coming off the blasting
flames fed with
the laundry of every put-upon
wife, mother, daughter,
sister, and friend?
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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More stories from K.B. Silver and writers in Poets and other communities.
CH 19~ Picking Through the Remains
After a trip like this, there would usually be a few days of traveling time to think things through and decompress. Instead, everyone congregated, Ginny and Neisha cast the spells, and the group was whisked away from whence they came. Francine knew to expect things to be in a possible state of disarray when they arrived home, but she was still slapped in the face by the stack of crates in the atrium and jumped as Azure bellowed from behind her:
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 3 days ago
Comments (2)
Oooo, private set of spheres, that was brilliant!
Powerful ❤️🔥