Tuesday, 24 May 2011


... and he puts his hands all over her..
And he puts his hands all over her sketched and written by Zena Edwards

there are days when being a woman is tide up
in the weight of her 'knowledge' of the 'way it is'
The status quo must be kept
so keep you body right and you mouth in check
be ready to be the object I select
from this day until the next
don't complain

Her man is poisoned against her
Just because he walks down the high road
without the blinkers
and she, bombarded with kilos and pounds
of sweet and salt constraints dressed up as
good-for-your-love-life home remedies
when the visual complexities wind their way though
her subtleties and feast on her insecurity

and she will grow fat
chained to counting the calories of her
compliant voice cramming itself
back down her throat to keep the peace
chaining her to a present, glutinous
with tricky accusations of her inadequacies
as the goal post of perfection shift again
while the 'rest' of the world grunts on

she will not fail you in bearing the future
but can she give birth to herself?
perpetually pregnant, bloated with doubt

you make her wait, you make her listen
to your loaded words
as you lay your hands all over her
with spikey adoration, careful now!
don't burst her

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