Reality
I travelled to the Midwest
The true south the locals exclaim
From my liberal western home,
I thought I knew conservative beliefs.
I thought I’d experienced oppression, sexism
I knew a liberal’s sexism, a liberal’s prejudice
A southern man open the door
Slaps my ass as I walk through
I gasp
I feel my cheeks red with embarrassment
The others tingling from the sting of his hand
Onlookers gaze at us with acceptance
Men jealous they didn’t get the first touch
Women a sad understanding reassurance
I don’t want reassurance.
I want the stinging to fade, the imprint of his hand
Still present
The burn of my face is no longer embarrassment
It’s anger. It’s fury.
It’s the realization I can’t change society alone.
I want my liberal home- a false reality
Not the gentleman’s façade of the falsified south
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.