Ain’t I a Man?

I bring her flowers...
She turns from the
blossoming possibilities
of becoming victim
of a tender touch
a gentle whisper
a stroke
that has been softened
by all that this man's eyes have seen.

Does not the boy
who wipes tears
from the eyes
of women warriors
crushed under penal codes
grow to be a man?

If only she could
to the femininity in me
to the thrust of throbbing energy
that is the making of
not just the muscles
of my ass and thighs
But of the power inside

The Goddess and I,
her loyal servant
sent to her scent
like a honey bee
it is Spring
and there is much work
to be done

She turns away from the
blossoming possibilities
of love.

She spits petals of venom
'His hands are not rough enough'
'His voice is not harsh enough'
to tame the shell shocked
Prisoner of War
she has become

Her eyes are empty caverns
robbed of soul

Even if I took her now
ravished her
until respected me
The union would only
shame the Gods
For she is but a fraction
of what was once whole

Some day soon
she will open
her swollen eyes
and cry

'Now there was a man.
Why ain't he mine?'

Jessica Holter

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