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.