THAT THING THEY CALL A WOMAN. 

The rain pitter-patters

And I, patter pitter with it.

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Coffee and toast and

All those other cosy things

Steam and sizzle

Upon my windowsill.

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My Darth Vader boxers

And my smoky warm hair

Hasty reminders

Of an evening of despair!

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There is nothing like the sound

Of two girls

clinking beers over tikkas

'today we let that shit go!'

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You say

It's hard to be a woman.

I say

It’s harder to be a girl, broski. 

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Ive barely gotten my hill legs

As you chase me up the ravine.

You silly,

chauvinistic swine.

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I laugh at you, Sisyphus!

Sometimes, I do.

Rolling your little boulder 

on your puny manly shoulder 

I can only get older... 

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Forced to grow

And bend

to kiss and mend

simper and tend

a twist and a snap!

Are you sure I don't look fat?

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Whether it’s the chaps who break us

At 19

Or the sweet lovers who

Think they’ll make us whole again. 

They're always counting 

And no one's a 10

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All the morphing and the morphine

just breaks and builds

And squeezes and kneads…

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Until we're just

Clay teapots,

melting!

​

Unable to bake

Into that thing

They call a woman.