EMERGING FEMINISMS, Flusher – The Feminist Wire



By Kristina Dover


The bruises on her neck

were beautiful. Her skin

wasted my wallet this

winter, that is, when nights


were dark. Soft stones, like old

pomegranate seed stains, hid

under street lights and stars.

Oh, how I remember dim


head lights of cars; she licked her

thumb to blot them out. “Don’t cry,


don’t cry.” Chalk rouge from her

cheeks streaked down her bargain

coat, it was storming. Yes,

pouring on the pane. I


watched her womb drip down the

drain. The rushed blurs nearby

hummed, “Girl, you’re barely

grown. Pity.”


I was done. I became the

city and left her.


 Kristina Dover is a senior International Baccalaureate student, eighteen years young, from Florida. Published in TeenInk Magazine and several anthologies, poetry is an illness of hers that she doesn’t mind sharing.