well, that patronizing downward chin waggle scrape me off the bottom of your manolos look you are glasscutting across the room at me
doesn’t really speak much of
doesn’t really define
Why do we topple our sisters?
Why does a woman look at another woman 
in That Way?
You know the one….
the one only another woman recognizes as a challenge
a gauntlet thrown down
but instead of an armored glove
a freakishly plucked eyebrow
tilted in your obviously inferior direction
often accompanied by a viciously sharpened tongue…
Who does it profit when a woman grinds another one down?
Distributing shame should never be a condiment…
and that ladder you clamber up so forcefully
 should never be made of the leftover pieces
of people you have broken.
Let that prescription for venom lapse
file down those claws.
Pack away the hurdles, the flags, the glossy posters for the pettiness race:
 lets all quit
lets all boycott 
that performance.
A woman’s heart is never indestructible, it never feels things differently
 just because its not yours 
and scars still feel the pain
still throb
long after they fade…

About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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