Coin Toss

Toss the coin and see it spin…
On one side:  the flat chested girl turtled over
hunched into herself 
her spare curves ashes in her mouth
her narrowness a shameful malady
Flip it over and the other side:
the well endowed girl 
who must face the world with crossed arms and a guarded face
her measurements defining her
“….a build like that, she’s asking for it…a whore obviously..”
The single girl who must endlessly answer querulous questions about birth dates and wedding dates and dates of serviceability.
Dates of shelving as if she were a ripe cheese soon to be growing mold,
pointed remarks about cows and cheap milk.
Or maybe one of those lady-men they whisper behind closed minds…
The permission to restrict and force 
is an accepted practice
and when we will think to stop and ask why?
In the end, behind all their tight and counterfeit smiles
 is the knowledge that they are not right 
not enough
they are at fault 
All decided by the toss of some indifferent coin…


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?
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