Pleasurable Woman

Pleasurable Woman

I am done being your Madonna.

Suckling babies at my breast,

swollen belly, bumbling and barefoot.

I am not your Saint.

Virgin on an alter, saving sinners

and feeding the hungry little shits.

I am through being your Whore.

Smoldering temptress to ensnare and to trap,

that teases and taunts, then fakes a headache.

I am not your trophy, your ball-and-chain, your china doll.

I am not your bitch, your baby or your boo.

I am not yours and you are not mine.

I’m not here to save you, to enslave you, to wipe your ass,

to fuck you or tuck you into bed at night.

I’m not your mommy, your mistress or your marshall.

I Am the great I Am. A woman, a pleasurable woman.

I soothe the fevered brow, kiss the child's neck,

placate the tempered teen and teach the difficult lesson.

I trust in signs, look to the stars,

believe in magic, nature, love and people.

I feel ecstasy between my thighs, within my heart,

connecting skin to flesh, mouth to tongue, brain to body.

I am a woman. I am everything and nothing.

Madonna, Saint, Whore, a pleasure and a pain.

A woman, a pleasurable woman.