To My Daughter

We men never stop for women we are always on the move going somewhere else:           on to our next conquest,           a tighter squeeze,           a new adventure— Our heads staring at the noon sun like the breasts of a virgin at fifteen.

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Image by Layers from Pixabay

We men never stop for women
we are always on the move going somewhere else:
          on to our next conquest,
          a tighter squeeze,
          a new adventure—
Our heads staring at the noon sun
like the breasts of a virgin at fifteen.

Photo by Dellon Thomas: https://www.pexels.com/photo/women-s-gray-racerback-top-713527/

One day you are a raw egg in the palms of our hands,
The other day we squeeze
          Just a little
Until your shell cracks,
          Just a little
Until your juices run,
          Just a little
Until they stain our shoes,
          Just a little
But you are a shell now—
Shattered. Forever.

Photo by Nathasha Daher: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-leaning-on-window-2860381/

Your body that was once bubbling with life
is beyond.
You watch, crying through the lock
Round the clock
we men walk away
Jacket tails slapping over our ass(holes)
Go somewhere else
To carry another egg.

Tusker

It was long after midnight when I woke up and realized Charlie had not come home, again. I didn’t want to think he was with someone else. I never did.

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