When a feeling
Erupts without invitation,
And comes without
Thorough disclosure,
I am often
Left starved
By curiosity.
Coming upon
A portion of a thought
Such as this
Brings about
An involuntary reflex
As if
I had just
Touched
The cold of a popsicle stick
To my tongue.
My body pulls away from the thought,
But my mind
My mind,
It protests
And makes me face
Uncertainty and Discomfort
Eternally.
Whereas reason slips
down the strait of man’s waist,
on a woman
it comes to rest
in protrusions of soft anxiety.
Boundless intuition
saddles the curves
of the female body.
The curvature of hips and chest
are best used for sound logic;
they’re handles
of order in the world
and guards
to the central organ
of the Earth.
Men think without this roundness.
Their thoughts too often catch on the bone
of individual desire.
Women have no such hardness.
From slender sloping necks
to the roundness in heels and toes
ideas slide
without snagging.
Women are impregnated
with foresight.
It pulses through the body
keeping a woman’s past
streaming not far behind her in billowing locks.
She bears a constant reminder
that the future grows
from her mind.
