Male and Female

Tradition is the province of men,

my womanhood ruminating in the sticky yard

always conjuring something new.

Each day remembers its ancestors,

is fermented and furrowed by them.

But my hands are a seraphim’s gadgets,

my breasts turrets in a house that isn’t mine alone.

A man repeats and repeats,

A warning siren to the beasts of shore and sea.

We will build as we have built,

but will not fight as we have fought.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.