Friday, February 10, 2017

Polished and Professional

He
wakes up, showers, shaves, dresses, combs his hair, goes to work,
and is considered a polished, professional man.

If I
wake up, shower, shave, dress, comb my hair, and go to work,
I am considered an unpolished, unprofessional woman.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

Operation Umbrella

I woke up this morning
to discover that
I had been living my life
under an umbrella
I was handed
years ago by
clergy, patriarchy and society
an umbrella that
limited my view of the world,
shielding me
from the sky and the sun,
sheltering me from
fresh air, free thinking,
free movement,
and my assimilation
with others
(and, ultimately, myself)
an umbrella that
I had been holding
above my head
with my right hand
for thirty-some years
an umbrella
I held because
someone handed it
to me
under the guise of
"instruction" and
"protection" and
"tradition."
That's what
you do when
someone hands you
something, right?
You hold it?

It wasn't until I
noticed the feet
of someone else
moving in a different direction
a different pattern
than me
that I dared
to peak outside
of the confines
of my covering to see
how that person
was able to move
so freely,
so functionally.
The umbrella
got in the way of
my view of that person
and it was then
that I noticed
the pole in my face
the handle
that had become
such a part of me
that I did not see
it
apart
from myself.

It wasn't until I
became aware
of the umbrella
that I realized
that I was actually
holding something;
that my view had been
almost entirely obstructed;
that I had the use of
only one arm
and one hand;
that there's a reason
I had felt so
tired and frustrated
and limited
along the way;
that I finally lowered
my arm, released
the umbrella,
and threw my head back
to an open sky
and the smell
of possibility.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Miss Misogyny

What if we gave
patriarchy a breather
and placed women
at the helm
of the world --
mostly large, loud,
"girls' club" cronies
with inside connections
who view men
largely as pieces of meat --
regardless of their
intelligence, experience
or finely tuned talent --
women
who snicker to each other
when a man enters the room
and verbally rate his hair,
face, pecks, crotch,
rear-end, weight and
sense of fashion
as soon as he
leaves the room;
women
who value the
opinion of other women
over any man
nine times out of 10;
women
who, as a matter of course,
assume that women
deserve to be consulted
and considered before
any man's opinion is ever suffered;
women
who appreciate a
good-looking, fit, fashionable
man as a means to an end --
flirty ego booster,
Playgirl playmate,
sperm donor, or,
maybe, if he's lucky
and hot enough,
a trophy husband --
women
but who deem all
men who don't pass
"the pretty test"
as nothing more than potential
back-room assistants,
ghost writers
and support staff;
women
who openly mock and belittle
any man who gets
"emotional" after
being treated as less
than a woman or simply
a sex toy or merely
an annoyance
to be endured;
rude, harsh women
who -- no matter
what they look like --
are only interested in men
who look like
fashion plates,
models and personal trainers;
women who base
their opinions of
a man solely on numbers --
bust, waist and inseam --
women who dismiss
any man who challenges
them with a genuine
concern or thoughtful
comment or genius idea?

Oh, but wait!
That would be
disgraceful,
disrespectful,
discriminatory
behavior,
wouldn't it?

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

(He is offended)

He is offended
when misogyny is found
to be offensive.

Sunday, December 18, 2016

(Christmas cat)

Christmas cat –
bedside greeting
begins with a pounce

Wednesday, December 07, 2016

Office Motor Mouths

I have a co-worker who literally
eats in her cubicle all day long --
course after course,
odor after odor,
lip smack after lip smack.

I have another co-worker who literally
talks to everyone in sight all day long,
cornering and capturing his victims
in verbal spider webs
without restraint; without mercy.

Oh, that the eater
would share her food
with the talker.

Tuesday, December 06, 2016

Eating on the Job

I am well aware that we fuel our bodies with food.
We all do it.
But there's something annoying about the people
who eat all day long on the job.
I know you've got to eat,
but I don't want to hear every
crinkle of every potato chip bag,
every crunch of every blasted chip,
every burp of every Tupperware container,
every scrape of every spoon in your bloody Rubbermaid.

I don't want to hear every slurp
of every sip of your coffee, then tea, then coffee, then tea.
I don't want to smell every whiff
of your canned peas marinating in the microwave.

I don't mind witnessing the afternoon snack
or occasional meal at your desk.
I'm simply sick of being subject to your
eight-course meals all the live long work day.