I think I just lost half my readership with that title, but for the other two of you here is my newest poem. I'm still tweaking the end; I'm taking advice and ideas. This is an idea that I can't get out of my head, that we raise little girls, at least in our society, to believe they can be anything they want, and what we tell them they want is to be anything a man can be and be it better than a man can be it. But the fact of the matter is that no matter what kind of polically correct and/or feminist puke we feed them, there is one thing they cannot grow up to be, and that is a man. They are going to grow up and be women.
I've never really been concerned about the different roles of men and women. I believe men and women have different natural capabilities, and what's the big deal to give in to nature, right? It doesn't bug me that men and women are different. It bugs me that in our society we treat little kids like they're the same.
I've noticed that a few of my poems actually have this theme. So maybe I think about it more than I think I think I do.
Prowl the night
Pieces of the sky
It's very slow
Anyhow, here's the new one.
Small shadows of a small
reed in the crossbeams of two low lights,
between a lamp-post and the moon.
See the boys at play in today’s great sunshine,
one osmotic light, the giver of sight.
See the boys pervade the day with bravado,
with untamed cruelty and absolutely unfeigned pride.
See the boys hide from nothing, there’s no need,
and striding in the maleness of their fathers,
glean power from the taunting of the girls.
See their shoulders back as if to hold the world.
See their chests pressed forward as if to offer rest.
See, with taut backs they taunt back
We hate girls.
I have envy of your masculinity:
your self-assured posture and infinite potentials.
I had it once, too, in its feminine form, but as a mother must
I’ve outgrown my masculinity.