Venus

It's hard to be a woman in a world that wants you less

Than a blow-up doll; than a dishwasher; than a coin-operated

Jukebox cranking out the same tired hits.

//

He wants it pert and pliable, slick and smell-less, ready when he is and,

Dear God, not a second sooner, not wanting, not crying, not bleeding,

Not speaking unless it's thank you. Unless it's perfect, no notes.

//

It's hard to be a woman but here I am, the ghost in the shell,

The whisper in the night, saying more, saying it's not enough,

Begging for a fresh tune, and realizing I'll have to write it myself.