Poetry

Diamond Set

The line of perfect teeth, concave only enough

to let out gentility

forcibly chews back all trace

of inner self.

 

Rigid, she must sit,

all sides a front, from the microscopic details of her sequined gown –

armour hidden in plain sight –

to the softness of her cheeks as she regards her counsellors

bent on tearing down

all she is trying to achieve.