On the Broomstick
By Jennett Bennu

I'm heart sick and tired,
Of being treated like a hamburger
From an assembly line,
To be devoured and quickly forgotten.
The gaze that undresses me.

I understand the tough ass women
Who strut like men.
They don't want to be men,
They don't want to be looked at like women.
The gaze that undresses.
As if a woman is fair game for undressing,
Like a hamburger is unwrapped.

Penises aren't all that
the car commercials crack them up to be.
Is it worth it? The shame
when the priest's wife stabs you with sermons
full of that terrible word
fornication
accompanied by looks long
and you shrink inside hoping no one sees
wondering if what you did was right
in your own book
because the good book says woman ate the apple
and she deserves to carry shame in her heart.
She deserves it, they say.
Again and again with stares full of hate
disguised as uncontrollable lust.

I'm heart sick and tired,
but my battle is chosen.
I don't intend to take the world's blame
upon my shoulders.
Destroy self doubt.
Destroy the belief that I deserve it.
I mean it.
I'll tell the next one of you condescending assholes
that as far as your penis is concerned,
God created your hands for a reason.

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