WOMEN IN PUBLIC

Once upon a time
Saint Bernadette was born
first child of her mom.
A homely woman
of absurd virtue
she had the martyr’s squint
of a Bernadette

A purple saint
an asthmatic saint
of course, she suffered much

What does the world hate more
than women
in public

When I am in my robe
then I am like a mom

And I do well in bed
and do not wait

When I look in the mirror
and my face is everywhere

All you cult born infants
think the earth is your clarinet
and like to crawl across its body

Do you think that you are greater than a mom?

When it is so hot
I lie on the floor

When I think
of what I have
to give

Life has it’s good points

And the fat, white thigh-bones
of a tourist

Dear mom
beautiful mom

Smile, as you always have
and ask me what I need

Remember
I’m your prisoner