The Hunting Ground

She pauses, outside the crossroads that read "Men" and "women"

Most would call this a bathroom

She calls this Russian Roulette

Tunnel vision, heartbeat skipping

 

Cliff's edge, one wrong move and deadly freefall

A loaded gun, a ticking bomb

A tsunami breaking through the old city walls

Of her mind

And yet it's only a bathroom

 

When those two roads diverged

In that oh so famous yellow woods

He chose the one less traveled by

Because he had the choice

 

In the animal world, males strut on by

With regal, vibrant plumes

Females exist

In the world of the monotone

An ecological advantage

 

Hunters are coming, nurturing weapons like children

Two peacocks at the crossroads

The male receives 

An arrow to the heart

The female basks in longevity

 

She's a girl, her name is June

She existed this way

As long as she can remember

She's a girl

Who has bright blue feathers

 

For the first time

She chooses the road less travelled by

Right as the old hunter's arrow

Pierces her flesh

 

This poem is about: 
My community

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