Where has Superwoman gone?
by K. Kylyra Ameringer
Superwoman's superhuman strength is sapped,
her cape of invulnerability is rent and torn.
She needs to teleport to a spa
('cause flying is just too much work)
and take off
her tight tights of righteousness,
her constricting corset of morality,
her boots of decency,
her culpability for the world.
She wants to ditch the gizmos and gadgets
that glorify her beyond her alter ego
and become nothing
more or less
than human, having
emergencies no larger than making this month's rent,
tragedies no greater than a chipped nail,
triumphs no further than calling the winner
in this season's X-Factor.
Superwoman appreciates your confidence and trust
but must insist you do without her for a day.
She apologises in advance for any
loss of limb or life
you may experience
in the course of this calamitous Condé Nast
and deeply regrets developing
this co-dependent attachment
among so many of you
based on her borderline bonkers
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