She traces her lips with
the precision of Picasso,
strokes her silky brown
hair, carefully tucking stray
strands behind her ears,
smoothes her new pink
dress and matching heels
that hurt like hell.
She pretends not to notice
the giggles and gasps.
she’s heard them before.
She’s seen mothers hurry
their little girls to flush
and wash; they must
escape the danger in a
dress lurking in the mirror.
The bathroom door shuts
slowly behind her, laughter
leaks into the aisles and replays
the acoustical nightmare of
playground taunts and pranks
that seem to have no end.
Her mirror reflected the person
she was born to be, her truth,
they don’t know danger doesn’t lurk
in a pink dress with matching shoes.
Danger lurks in the broken
brains of average men
who feed on fragile egos
of little girls in pretty dresses.