"Women have the extraordinary privilege
of fighting for their rights together one day,
just to tear each other down the next day."
You have held your
signs up about my rights,
and then mocked me
in front of good
looking men,
Your fights are
laden with
convenience you
publicly display
in your calendars.
And so I ask:
Where did your
phenomenal
woman go?
Sometimes, I think
she is hiding
behind your
own protest signs,
your shouts I
thought were
for courts,
and reserved
for cause,
are perhaps
your yodeling
practice sessions,
without a
guided leash.
Your light is
artificial,
so it seems,
for when the moths
come flocking
to your glow,
as easy bait,
and they often do,
you fancy
yourself the sun.
You use seesaws
as balancing beams,
rocking up and down
on your convictions
until your formed rocks
turn into mere pebbles,
turn into sand.
Sometimes you
like to ****** your
phenomenal onto me
and say "look look,"
as if you are
a mountain,
but you are
still a hill.
And just like
balloons
and with
the certainty
of rubber
still you rise,
But still,
like dust,
you fall
without the
security of knots,
still you rise
still you fall.
Because no one
can be two places
at once,
and so I sit here
as you
perpetually
leave me
wondering
after every
womanly uproar,
Where did your
phenomenal woman go?
You can rise or
you can fall,
but you can't do both.