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| Shulamith Firestone, author of The Dialectic of Sex |
in her apartment.
A firestorm of outrage
at the millennium
of male domination,
each private act of trust
ripped from its context
and exposed
as violence.
Bleeds down into the crevice
between his dignity
and his desire.
Watches the fire eat greedily
all pretense of compassion.
Lets her have the upper hand.
Just hands it over,
the movement of the species
from hunter/gatherers
to stalker/batterers.
The well known abhorrent fact:
that girls (women) don’t fight fair…
they kick and bite,
they ignore the “rules”,
or make them up
then change them when advantage
slips away.
But then, she suggests,
most men are batterers,
have thought of battering.
Stalking.
The man whose emotions ignite
in a moment,
who feels himself “in love”
without a lengthy period of deliberation
and bravely/foolishly expresses himself
is suspected by the collective
of being obsessive:
a potential stalker.
The man who “feels”
“no-thing” or
is not aware of his feelings or
“expresses nothing”
is also suspected.
There is, among the sisterhood,
a proper, respectable time table
for the alchemy of passion.
Meanwhile the boys,
in their encampment,
measure success in terms of numbers
of conquests.
Not a duration event,
the straightest line between two points:
“hello” and “I’m coming”,
and the dialogue is optional.
“Feelings” mean little
to the brotherhood.
The spoken/written word
another weapon in the arsenal.
Both sides have lost faith
in the sanctity
of truth.
Will debate epistemology
with limited zeal
depending upon relevance to
stated/perceived goals.
Is this the legacy
that nature
has bequeathed?
He heals slowly.
He feels
beaten,
abused,
emptied,
confused.
Discourse resumes,
but it is not the same.
It is an act of violence
to speak a woman’s name.
Let the fire starve to death.
Let words of consolation go unheard.
Let her be stalked by his absence,
battered by his bitter words.