Pink ribbons, unicorns, pastel stars
are my protective charms warding off macho gazes,
little demons who scare away sharp edges and rigidness.
When I walk down the streets laden with graffiti and machines and concrete,
and cast witchcraft, using stickers and fluff,
people act as if they do not notice that I am there.
But the softness stays. The city tainted in tenderness and glitter by dawn.
In the night I cast my curse of new times to come upon thee.
And I shall proudly wear the signs of my magic’s occasional backfiring.