We’ve got to keep reminding ourselves that there’s power in anger and how we direct it. We’ve got to remember to care. We’ve got to remember to not let “those” moments slip by. We’ve got to remind ourselves about what’s important. Posted with gratitude for the writing class that’s reminding me not to get too complacent, not to lose sight. It’s gratitude for all the incredible women writers who inspire, who push, who challenge, who contend. Thanks to the great women who never stop moving.
Stick a finger in the hole in your tights, then pull
You can scream too if you want to
You’d think a rip, shred, tear, rend, rift
Would run right through, undo
Pick at the thread on the hem of your dress
Feel the scourge in weakened stitch
Tug, then watch the seam cut through
High up your thigh, sleek cheek
Pluck at the curve above your breast,
The collar hiding all the rest
And rend right down where they lie, bare
You think you’re hiding something there?
Slut, whore, harlot,
You wear that shit, you play the game
You’re seeking, creeping, hopping round
A parrot in a pidgeon’s crowd
And every inching of your wings
Brings mites and smidgens tumbling in.
Watch out, love, preserve the rest
Before you fall at their behest.
Try not to get yourself done in.
Categories: Stories and Culture