Just Ask For It
Sometimes I have to stifle the desire
to shake other women.
Even the tiniest most
Minuscule fucking ant hill
Of a thing feels like
A mountain of inconvenience
To a woman.
Watching them dance around
without calling them out on their bull shit
makes me wonder if they’d rather
bleed to death than
borrow a bandaid.
Then I remember the not asking is a symptom
of the fear we carry every hour.
Never knowing whether it is safe
to harbor even the simplest desire.
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Favorite image: “if they’d rather/ bleed to death than/ borrow a bandaid.”