I had always coveted my mother’s walk-in closet.
I had always coveted my mother’s walk-in closet. It seemed to me that it must contain a grand temple Where one could receive visions, from those elusive Garment gods Or perhaps Something is hidden Behind those winter coats And endless scarves: A great land A Narnia Of my very own. Doesn’t mean This couldn’t be Just because It’s “just a room.”
Dripping
Drip, drip, drip. My eyes flutter open. I look around the room: A dark figure, Probably a man, Stands above me. Then a woman, Dressed in a very short, stylish red dress, Descends the long staircase. Are you done yet, Gerald? I feel faint. “Almost, my lady,” He replies in a deep baritone. I am about to pass out, And suddenly, I know what the dripping sound is. It is my blood. What are they doing to me? Drip, drip, drip. Everything goes black.
The Taming of the Female
Conscious of each move we make Trying to decrease our space Hiding laughter behind my hand He can have everything; it’s not mine to take. If I simmer to the background It will all be easier And I will ask you to leave this place With grace. Suddenly the focus changes New horizon, graduation From a child to something else Don’t you make a sound None of us are worth anything, And we’ll bend and bend until we’re broken in By a multitude of hims.