Let’s pretend there was never a time
when women couldn’t do exactly as they pleased,
when their worlds were as small as the breast
leaking milk and the howling mouth that sought it,
that the shit and stain and blood and bone
did not penetrate us against our will, that we accepted
all of it smilingly, when all we ever really wanted
were wheels beneath our still curved and eager bodies,
a motor, road hats, and any women-reigned place
to escape to. If the men asked, and they wouldn’t,
because they never saw it coming, we would say oh,
we’ll be back by 5, or 9, or next week, or maybe never.
Greta Bolger is a poet and visual artist living the good life in a little village in NW Michigan called Benzonia. Her writing has been published in several online and print journals, including Eclectica, Silver Birch Press, Literary Bohemian, Mom Egg, and Sea & Sky. Her poems have also been recognized in the Interboard Poetry Competition many times. http://ibpc.webdelsol.com/.
The Ekphrastic Review
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