Beneath the public face

we carry our thoughts ~

oceans that roll and crash

under a placid surface


We are all commodity

meant to be consumed

public domain

of our private selves


The eyes

the legs

the clothing

the makeup

Every detail ripe

for analysis

dissection


We are laid bare in the snapshot

judgment of small minds

the gaze that seeks to own

what can never be possessed


It's the chorus of male voices

that do not seek more

or less

than the enslavement

of women



We wear a public face

and whisper our tales

we bury ourselves

within

an interior tapestry

rich beyond measure



Waiting to create

a safe space

for women's voices

to ring clear