LISTEN
by Lisa Kusel
I am not a woman,
invisible
I am women,
indivisible.
I have a face, although you
don't
see my face.
"Look at me when I'm
talking to you."
I have a face.
I have a voice.
Hear me roar. Better yet,
come
closer
and hear me whisper. For my
screams
you blithely ignore, as
though they are
inconsequential laments
from a baby
not your own.
Okay.
It will be my
whispers then;
the runty sounds
that turn inside my head
like a Ferris wheel in the
distant dark.
Whispers shall carry us
through
to the day you stop
scorching our souls with the
party-line precepts stowed
securely
in your breast pocket.
Your right hand pats them
once, twice,
then rests solemnly as you
pledge allegiance
to the hatred
and subversion you married.
Pat
Pat
I watched as you anchored
your beliefs to
this totem of power
this phallus
this fallacy
then chose to back away
from the moral ledge.
Whispers
between friends, words
spoken through clouds
of outrage, but uttered
nonetheless, shared with
Marina and Anne, Topaz,
Meg, Lori and Susan
Monica and Kelley.
A match has been lit. Held
in the
whispers of Jenny and Deby
and Aimee and Judy.
You haven’t heard us yet,
have you?
Because we’ve been
whispering.
What do you think a million
angry whispers
sound like when uttered
in a small wood-paneled
room?
Imagine it.
Go ahead.
A whisper from one woman
who spoke her truth
should have been enough
should have been more than
enough
to set your world ablaze.
No matter.
We are here now, full, on
fire,
ready to burn down your
injustices like
flames ripping through
fields of drought-dried wheat.
We’re here now
whispering amongst
ourselves.
Listen.
* * * * *
"Listen" first appeard on Lisa Kusel's blog on October 8,
2018.
Lisa Kusel is the author of the
recently-released Rash, A Memoir,
about running away to Bali, as well as two previous works of fiction. Her poems
and essays have appeared in Zuzu's
Petals; The Mondegreen; Women Writers, Women's Books; The
Manifest-Station; and Motherly. Follow
her on Instagram @lisa_kusel
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