by Amanda J Cobb
It is an orange
that my gender decrees
must be peeled monthly
by metaphysical hands
that grip it
and rip into the flesh
with their fingertips,
tearing it apart
and discarding the peel
as the juice drips freely down,
leaving me drained.
Author's Note: Published in my college's literary magazine, Pulse.
Posted on 10/16/2003
Copyright © 2020 Amanda J Cobb
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kristine Briese on 10/16/03 at 10:59 PM|
Oh, yeah, I hear this. I've got one in my library called "Uterus". Yeah, we know all about it, don't we?
|Posted by Deborah S Regan on 01/07/04 at 04:42 PM|
just wait till you have a baby
|Posted by Kara Hayostek on 02/18/04 at 01:50 AM|
Interesting analogy , i particularly like the words grip and rip, let the men know this isnt a gentle process!
|Posted by H.M Stevens on 02/17/09 at 07:31 AM|
Agreed-- great analogy and well thought out and expressed.
|Posted by Mo Couts on 06/05/11 at 02:18 AM|
I like this--very true...and of course we should all give more thought to what our girlie organs are doing.