To My Daughter

 We men never stop for women

we are always on the move going somewhere else:
          on to our next conquest,
          a tighter squeeze,
          a new adventure—
Our heads staring at the noon sun
like the breasts of a virgin at fifteen.


Image by Layers from Pixabay 

One day you are a raw egg in the palms of our hands,
The other day we squeeze
          Just a little
Until your shell cracks,
          Just a little
Until your juices run,
          Just a little
Until they stain our shoes,
          Just a little
But you are a shell now—
Shattered. Forever.


Your body that was once bubbling with life
is beyond.
You watch, crying through the lock
Round the clock
we men walk away
Jacket tails slapping over our ass(holes)
Go somewhere else
To carry another egg.

Photo by Nathasha Daher:


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