by Jenny Rossi
I wonder at the men who own my ovaries.
How they treat the glistening
redness of my complicated machinery.
Are their wives jealous? So few owning so
many rubies of the flesh!
But these women have lain silent so long
one wonders if their mouths have been stolen
along with their red worth. If choice was tucked away
beneath our skin, it would crack and run down like
rain to be shaken off.
Jenny Rossi’s work is upcoming in Strange Horizons and has appeared in various small publications.
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