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Everywhere I go, I find a poet has been there before me.
-Sigmund Freud
A Word About Tits
A word about tits
A thesis on boobs
Fluffing my feathers
The joy of my babies and toddlers
Comforting pillows for my lover
Sensual antenna, pathway to orgasm
Men can walk bare-chested down the street
I must hide my chee-chees or be jailed
Once an inquisitive budding goddess asked me
Why do we have breasts?
Indeed-what story do they tell?
An old “chakra one challenged” woman scolded me
“I find that Patriarchy has us focused on our breasts,
encouraging us to expose them
My reply was that it was ME, MYSELF that gave me the freedom to flash
Reminiscent of the Minoan Snake Goddess and her bodice-less dress
If all children were once again sated till the weaning age of 4
If breasts were routinely loosed to quell the cries of a child
For a bruised knee, or scuffed elbow
(Indeed if children were ALLOWED in our lives)
Then I believe the mystery of these breasts
Would become Sacramental AGAIN
Men would come on their knees to be suckled
Openly being free to worship
The story a woman’s body tells
The breasts being only a pathway towards
The Holy of Holies
Puritanical, Ayatola-ish veiling of naturalness
Soon we will veil the trees themselves
Why women?
What is this veiling for?
Why does my sensuality relegate me in certain
Wine and cheese crowds to the idiots corner?
What if I don’t “make nice” at Patriarchy
What if I show my tits?
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