It’s Us

(We’ve got no one to complain of but ourselves)

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Recorded Reading: https://www.dropbox.com/s/cyj6xokevsfmnd0/it%27s%20us.wav?dl=0

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It’s Us

Those outfits at which women gaze
Their whole limited lives
As daughters and and homemakers
As mothers and as wives

Responsible full half support
Their needy fam’les for,
As well as every comfort
May be found inside the door

Of homes frequented by busy
And neglectful family
Who look upon their urge for growth
Most suspiciously;

Those suits dramatic shoulders with
Those dresses made of naught but mist
Those hat brims tilted just to rights
Their feminine hearts so have missed

And will continue miss
Rather than awful risk to take
Some mockery of them
Plainer compatriots might make,

And by this means their tenuous
Mundaner reputations fall —
Those gowns of which they dream at night?
Well, I have worn them all…

Believe me, ladies, the delight,
The simple sens’uous feeling of
Those swinging fabrics next the heel
Is something anyone would love

At least as much imagine as
In fondest fantasy
Sensation wonderful it is
Manifest femininity

And — guess what? It is not the men
Accuse we of making a fuss
And keeping us from our potentials
Ladies, hate to say — it’s us.

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Among us, poets are ill paid. In order to continue her work, this one currently lives in her minivan, on an income of a fraction of our nation’s poverty level. If her work has moved, enabled or uplifted you, your contribution to this effort may be made at: https://www.gofundme.com/kx4xka-are-you-a-patron-of-the-arts

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