Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Some women marry houses.
It's another kind of skin; it has a heart,
a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.
The walls are permanent and pink.
See how she sits on her knees all day,
faithfully washing herself down.
Men enter by force, drawn back like Jonah
into their fleshy mothers.
A woman is her mother.
That's the main thing.
         Emma, C B Lester, ns carmona, keaoss, Lynette and 28 others
Please log in to view and add comments on poems