Artemis in the Shopping Mall

I want to be invisible to men.

To the hot blind eyes

That stare brutally blatant

At tits, cunt, and sometimes

Something in my face

Which is not mine.

A label like whore, tigress, mmmhmmm,

Some reflection of an ingrown lust,

The title of a wank.

Each glance an unashamed small rape,

The steal (if they can) a piece of me

(a piece of ass)

For some dividing purpose

Which is not mine.


And if I refuse to

Strut, smile, drop my eyes

And wear the label

They say

“What you need is a good fuck.”

(I think I need

A cool green silent place

With water running rippled over rocks

Where only the small wild things

Look into me

And see something unvisible

Which is completely mine.)


But men break down and in

With their hot blind hands

Spouting their concrete spew over the green secret places

So I cannot rest safely silent

Beneath the shaded sanctuary of a tree

But must exist concealed within

A stony statue

Which is not mine

So I can be invisible to men.