I’m not a lady
corseted, cosseted, powdered, gloved
a caged bird
kept and kept silent
seen but not heard
I’m not a girl
fresh face, budding chest, pony-tail swinging
long hair flicking
ripe for the picking
I’m forty years old for fuck’s sake
I’m not bubbly
a cheap vino, teasing and pleasing
frivolous and fun
it’s called charisma, dammit
you could use some
I’m not moody
resting bitch face like a slapped arse
dour and sour
it’s not my job to boost your flaccid ego with my smile
(though it is within my power)
I’m not frigid
because I don’t open my heart and my legs to you
ice-queen, prick-tease, squeaky clean
uptight, tup-tight
distant and aloof
I’m not a nag
a gnawing, pecking harpy, a bossy old hag
always on your case, in your face
just because to function
you need step-by-step instruction
I’m not hysterical
screaming, eyes gleaming, victim of my womb
shamed and untamed
I acknowledge my emotions
you should try it too
I’m not demanding
I’m just demanding
what is rightfully mine
to be treated as an equal, a long-awaited sequel
to all the shit that’s gone before
