Beate Sigriddaugher

It is not your fault
you were taught love is,
for a man, undignified.

It is not my fault
I was unable to compellingly
inspire otherwise.

It is not our fault
we landed in a world
where we poison each other
for profit.

The bitterness of plastic
exploitation frightens me.

How can we straighten
the future with one
of us cautioned against
feeling, the other
warned against
unfolding?

Strange things are
encouraged to grow out
of proportion
while both of us
proudly defend
our crippled stance.

How do we get
out of here, crippled
like this?