We’ve all known girls like Helen, cheerleading outfits on –
the captain of the football team takes photos on the lawn.
We find her floating naked in a backyard pond.
We’ve all know girls like Helen, girls whose beauty leads to fame,
and when they’re on the billboards, their own innocence they’ll claim.
They’re traded off like baseball cards and not to blame.
And all these girls like Helen, they’ll be lovely, maybe kind;
the rest of us will bite our lips and say that we don’t mind.
You’ll believe us only if you’re deaf and blind.
Sometimes the girls like Helen take a razor to their skin,
then they fill the tub with water and climb right in.
Or else they do it slowly, and just grow thin.
A thousand girls like Helen have a thing or two to learn;
the ships arrive and make the oceans froth and churn.
They lean outside their windows and we watch them burn.
*Ed. Note: Laura Cok's "The Bird Girls" is currently under consideration for publication. In its place, please enjoy last year's winning poem "Blues for Helen of Troy."
