Woman; The Tidal Wave

Standing down at the waters edge mouth open
A never-ending screetch of the harpy The office witch
The board bitch Bellowing into the wind and tide
The storm howls back in a virtuous circle Blowing the force 5 back to my core
And my tirade starts anew

The supposed meeting of minds had been laughable
In its irony
Not a formed and cogent thought among them
Devouring my breasts and legs
Tongues lolling
Warped eyes
No purity
Only surety In their standing

They mulled and joked
Cigarred and choked
Turning their blind eyes
On me
The player in their game
A random act of kindness
To take me on Kindness at a cost
A cruel and unusual toss of the dice

I could climb up and up
On to their rickety ladder
Awash with grease and bile
Etched with the clawmarks of those who’d grappled
Scrabbled up before me
The shards of the shattered ceiling not yet splintered in my hair
Reaching the dizzying heights
I find only clingfilm
An illusion of glass
Clammy Cloying Suffocating

So I scream with abandon
A howling hatred of myself For being sold
For selling myself For pence-a giveaway
Sold to the lowest bidder

But the wind bolsters
And loans me back my puff
I store my screams for the ears of the board
They’ll hear me
But won’t listen
I doubt they ever have
It earns them nothing
Offers no return
No investment made
No losses incurred

To be for sale
A buyers game
And I’m a product that nobody wants
Trying to avoid drowning in a flooded market
All of us bobbing along
Heads barely above water
All trying to find that first rung
While we wait floating
Grabbing any liferaft that passes our way
And the gratitude
I have for that liferaft
Angers me back into shouting at the wind

I should not be on the liferaft
I should not NEED the liferaft
I should not be drowning
I should own the fucking cruiseliner
Damn it I should own the ocean
I AM the ocean
And my tidal wave should end them all

This entry was posted in feminism, patriachy, poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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