What Should We Do?

By Leah Fleming

                                                             
                                                             I have some tulle and modal,
                                                             let’s make something soft and gray
                                                             But don’t crop the fabric              
                                                             like the ears of Great
                                                             Danes and Dobermans
                                                             who guard the gangsters and junkyards
                                                             but should be protecting the beating
                                                             hearts of babies digging
                                                             their fragile fingers
                                                             in the dirt, uprooting
                                                             tulips and daffodils
                                                             planted in the fall with hope like
                                                             breath in the air instead of smoke
                                                             that fills the lungs with tar
                                                             and carcinogens, subtle
                                                             forms of self-
                                                             mutilation
                                                             Like women who starve
                                                             themselves and mar
                                                             their skin
                                                             Some with razors
                                                             and some with jewels and ink
                                                             To paper words and intricacies
                                                             of black,
                                                             such as fishnets and lace
                                                             pressed against skin
                                                             And eyes dancing
                                                             with candles
                                                             and connections of lips
                                                             and limbs
                                                             Until the morning when the sun
                                                             breaks the clouds
                                                             Soft and gray, like
                                                             lace and cotton
                                                             Waiting to be
                                                             Transformed.

 
 
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Leah Fleming is twenty-one years old and a senior at Bemidji State University. She is in love with the words people use and the connections humans make.