“I’m tired of being a woman. I walk
into grocery stores and laundromats wet
with the cracked face of a maidenhead
lurching across the Atlantic.
I want to sleep like a seed in stony ground.
I want the phone to stop biting my ear. I want to forget
the bills and keep the lights on.
It so happens I’m tired of my boots and my wrists
and my hair and my waist and my womb
with its weary flowers…”
-Read the entire poem at VQR.