valentinesday
two weeks ago my keyboard came back to life. well, all but the spacebar. today is valentines day, chrissy and i aren't doing cliche things, which makes me happy. i'm overloaded in my classes and falling behind even though i'm doing lots of work. today i was unprepared for all three classes, failed two quizzes on three stories i hadn't read, and didn't do a paper i needed to hand in today. but i wrote this poem, based on a conversation i had in my friend nora's kitchen with a bunch of people. i like it.and the day was a success.
woman's rights
found just to the left of racist jokes
repeated more frequently than our national anthem
of continuous oppression, tugging
at the worn hem of an old dress
she's been wearing for centuries.
threadbare and faded it's hard
to even cover herself some days and,
certainly not easy to feel comfortable in.
she's looking for a replacement,
something new, but men will tell her
she already has a perfectly good one,
he bought it for her when they first met,
and thus enslaved her forever. she looks
at him and laughs at the idea of god
being portrayed as a man. only men
would, could, achieve such a bold move.
men for whom the bulge in their pants
seems to be an impassible roadblock
for empathy. men who see a woman
as an opportunity for another check
on a neverending list displaying
their need to conquer. men who rape their mother
earth of her natural resources, dumping
the waste in her backyard and slowly killing her.
men who sleep at night beside someone
they don't really know. he's unaware
that she can play bridge and finish a crossword puzzle,
that she understands global politics and global warming.
and he doesn't know that she's been busy
with her needle, sewing herself
something new to wear.
comments welcome.
woman's rights
found just to the left of racist jokes
repeated more frequently than our national anthem
of continuous oppression, tugging
at the worn hem of an old dress
she's been wearing for centuries.
threadbare and faded it's hard
to even cover herself some days and,
certainly not easy to feel comfortable in.
she's looking for a replacement,
something new, but men will tell her
she already has a perfectly good one,
he bought it for her when they first met,
and thus enslaved her forever. she looks
at him and laughs at the idea of god
being portrayed as a man. only men
would, could, achieve such a bold move.
men for whom the bulge in their pants
seems to be an impassible roadblock
for empathy. men who see a woman
as an opportunity for another check
on a neverending list displaying
their need to conquer. men who rape their mother
earth of her natural resources, dumping
the waste in her backyard and slowly killing her.
men who sleep at night beside someone
they don't really know. he's unaware
that she can play bridge and finish a crossword puzzle,
that she understands global politics and global warming.
and he doesn't know that she's been busy
with her needle, sewing herself
something new to wear.
comments welcome.