A Response to Walt Whitmans "A Women Waits for Me"

A poem of female requite

Response to "A Women Waits for Me" by Walt Whitman

 

Supplicant women, you tear at my soul

you confuse me and gut me,

a fish on shore, I have spread seed over a thousand eggs,

yet you subtlety break my mind down to its reptilian denominator.

 

I take you, break you, put you under my will

it's easy you know, testosterone is a well spring easily tapped.

I can pull your hair, make you feel owned, the way you want

but all the time it is you who own me for estrogen is a dark river easily tapped.

 

Why do you move me to care,

why do I have to, what is about me that I worry about a woman’s feelings,

cursing my father’s, father, for seeds of long distanced morality planted, compelled to care.