Who can stare into
a woman's empty, hungry heart
and not go blind?
She is a loaded gun in
unsure hands. A seagull
that knows nothing
about the currents that buffet
her circuitous journey.
She can board a ship of promises
and still return empty-handed.
There is no woman that cannot carve
a hell out of heaven from the
miseries of her loves.
Give her your boxing gloves and
she'll use them in her kitchen too.
When she finally answers your call,
you might want to hang up before she
speaks. For she,
cannot tell you the contents of
a rock anymore than she
can tell you how to be a man.
Such a woman is a ghost
that browns the letters of
the feminist's manifesto.
Were there no God, she would
have grown the tree. 
 
So pluck the dying
infant from her breast.
Give her nothing but the breeze
upon her rags and kiss her
once. Tell her,
how tomorrow's eternity
is today's exile
and trust her,
to keep the flames
burning - then
leave.