The Right Kind of Woman

The right kind of woman will

inspire affection, regard, trust.

Not promiscuity, never lust.

Bred by a mother equally right,

she knows to avert her eyes to

innuendoes, telling smiles.

In crowded buses, shops, streets,

she knows to shut tight, bud-like,

relinquish space, circumscribe limbs.

Above all, she knows the prudence

of holding her tongue, of choosing

silence’s worth over wordy rebellion.

Schooled to surrender in dark

rooms, she knows, unasked, to

feign desire, moan, stifle, sigh on cue.

On her forehead, she had a

third eye to emit fire, take sides,

rake storms. Last night, its lid rusted

with disuse fell out, and the right kind

of woman laughed herself to death

over all she had left undone, unsaid.

- from Stitching a Home (2021)