The He-Man Woman-Hater’s Club

No girls aloud. ~ Sign on my brothers’ tree fort.

While I had to act like a lady,

forbidden from exploring the right

side, my childhood was a clusterfuck

of males, too many brothers,

each with his own gang.

I didn’t envy their penises,

as they mocked my pique

at losing all the perks.

That’s just how it is, so

I lost myself in the enchantment

of blood, tracing my lineage

to uncover the mysterious

females that his

story had hidden.

It’s been a long, slow

awakening, and though my

friends expect a silver-haired

sage this morning, I will bring

them dreams of baby boys,

the gift of my request

for revelation before I slept.

Boys in peril, like a maze

and every corner yet another

teetering on a ledge

alone but for addicted parents

in a daze, lost.  When I saved

one of them, his laugh

exposed a perfect

triangle of white teeth.

And I have been seeking

balance, walking to the rhythm

of the catcalls, looking into the

background beyond the shock

of the present event.

Just now, a male cardinal

flies into the window, bang —

startling me out of my own

contemplation.  Warning off 

the beautiful reflection he views

as competition.  His head must hurt

like mine, as I sit here

slowly sipping coffee.

Inspired by:  Pique, Enchantment, Blood and Sage.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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