who kiss each other with words,
dissing men who miss the mark
with jokes rehashed, tired
hashtags, and unsolicited ats—

nobody got time for that.

or catcalls, those hey doll’s
don't put rad witches in thrall
& dick pics get that swift kick
to the hard block—

so they stay locked.

these birds don't flock, they walk
in wakes, moving through space
with an unimaginable grace
that keeps thirst slaked.

11/16/2014

Author's Note: a poem in 3 tweets: 420 characters of love. ode to dem twitter ladies who keep me motivated / tell the hard truths.

Posted on 11/17/2014
Copyright © 2025 Christina Gleason