Poem For Pussy, 10/14/2016

On every side
We are presented
And represented,

Clamoring to line up
At the polls to keep our pussies out of their hands
Or cupped lovingly by the legislature.

This whole thing is a grab
Isn’t it — for power and money
And fame and whatever kind of hunger
Makes a person want to rule in the first place.

Who hurt us worse? Who hurt us
And when? And how? 
When pussy makes its way to the presidency

It’s like when pussy makes its way anywhere else — 
We thought there were going to be rules. We thought
Things were going to go according to the rules of politesse and decency,
We thought in the bed or the office or the stairwell
That there were rules written in air things would abide by.

In the humid air of the office
And the stairwell
And the news
It turns out things don’t abide by any rules at all
That in fact the process is unruly.

In fact what was moving us to and fro
were fingers visible and invisible
in the bad grab that makes you sick inside
And ride the blood-rimmed tide.

In America, there’s always been blood on the ballot
Even in the good eras where men rose and fell
And we came out clean.
It turns out, when pussy aspires to the presidency
The world gets mean.