In Simone de Beauvoir's Head

This man is an animal

motivated purely

by his own primordial

instinct

Not the instinct to procreate

rather the urge to take

possession of another

without their permission

Worming his way into her

delicate psyche

he penetrates her mind

first

Winds his way through her

limbic system

leaving her aching

wanting more

Then he moves down to her heart

and takes his meaty grasp of it

squeezing, pulsing he takes control

she concedes

With mind and heart secured

he knows

he has control of her

sex

Then - and only then

he releases his grasp

she falls disconnected

through space and time

Where is he

the one who will save her

she is lost

scared

She begs him to take her again

into his possession

being owned feels safe
she mistakes this for love

He obliges for he knows

she will reward him

passionately

with great fervor

And he will do this

catch and release

until she is weakened and

torn apart from her own soul

She is wholly dependent

utterly shattered

He won the prize

killed the big game

Job done

he tosses her lifeless empty body

on top of the pile with all

the rest

I wrote this jagged mess of a poem after reading the first couple of chapters

of The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir several weeks ago.

My thoughts are a tangled mass of feminism, misogynism, and general gender disparity. Fortunately for you, it's after 11:00 PM and I'm exhausted

so I'll save my femi-nazi diatribe for another time.

-Shannon