a woman draped in black,
only her eyes exposed
cutting a gash in her modesty.
we are sitting on your front steps
in the sun, smoking cigarettes;
you drop your eyes.
likewise veiling your femaleness,
but no modesty in your gender.
i watch but try not to stare.
she rides past, every eye a threat.
a rule followed by instinct, not habit.
she stops and
turns, one foot on the ground,
expressionless,
her eyes all for us.
2 comments:
This poem makes me want to hear the story behind it. Nice work.
~B.
high praise. thank you!
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