His gaze too low beading necklace, trickle-sweat between my breast. My voice reflected, percentages are bouncing on his wolfish grin a “No”. My arguments lie spilled, unheard. Pressure cooker-giggling not an invitation, but still his hands are talons, coldness of his wedding-band against my skin. My whispered “No”, unheard. Afterwards, he says: “Can we meet tomorrow night?”
Kelly Letky is guest hosting at dVerse poetics, where she wants us to gender-bend it. Look from the point of view of the opposite sex. I still set it in relation to man, because I think that basically women and men are primarily humans, but together there are those that use their power to abuse.
September 29, 2015