I stopped in the fire the other day
Watched the snow fall like parachuting marines
And thought about my uterus
I’ve carried it around all my life,
Barely recognizing it was there
Until it started giving me trouble
First it was the right to own property
Then the vote, of course
And now. It hurts.
It does unruly things
Keeps me worried and awake
It used to be so neutral, so nonchalant.
So non-confrontational,
Like a lone hippie in a head shop
Simply content, unassuming.
But now, it’s always lurking around.
Making rude comments and watching for my reaction
Like a brat testing the boundaries
A visceral gadfly

A blood-and-guts terrorist

A cantankerous Cunt

If this is a gift, as the propaganda proclaims
Then where’s my gift receipt?