Posted on October 23, 2017


he does not understand that “bitch”

is a word forged in fire

a steel that cuts when unsheathed

not the only weapon

a joke he slings with wild abandon

“maybe you shouldn’t be offended”


is what I am called when I reject a man’s tongue

in my mouth, a venom

I spit out my NO

he spits out BITCH

BITCH is what I am

when I do not follow him to his room

when I do not smoke his joint

when I do not find his rape jokes funny

when I do not find his clenched fist

sarcastic allusion to violence

“a hit”


because I apparently owe him

potshots at me and my body

bought shouts for me at the bar

come on, won’t you smile for me honey?


women, am I right?

my sensitivity offends you

I should get back to the kitchen

to cook up a less emotional reply

instead my fury is baked in an oven

simmer on low

salted, my wounds

I am quiet in my meal preparation

would you eat this humble pie?


I wear proudly

all my rebuffs of advances

pins on my vest

pinned to my chest

your eye contact with my breasts

burning holes through my control

I built up, then when I snap

threaten to slap

that entitled shit-eaten grin off your face


you lace your sentence


you brand me


the bar watches


a crucible, you want to crush me


I am emboldened by a spell that is a history of




so I say

BITCH back up or I will rip you to bits

BITCH step back and stop staring at my tits

BITCH I will end you, you’re of no significance

BITCH you don’t own me, and that’s the end of this.

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Posted in: Poetry