Hello, women. I've found time to write another poem. This one is free verse. Enjoy.

[we say child you have got to bear down]
Cherie E. H.

we do not feel the iron press closer
cold drafts around the kitchen floor
travel up our bare feet, long legs
hands shoulders voices clicking
cellophane giggles cellular beeps.
we cringe we bear down and scrub
away at porcelin dishes and plastic
sippy cups food crust chips away
under soapy water and dishpan hands.
scrub. soak. clatter. clack. curse.

we know quiet limits, we know do not
spread your chastity thin or else
keep those lips closed or face
the consequenses all alone you
woman you rope you leather thong
tightening we know privelige we
know woman you have no idea you
are killing a we know the red
rubber cathater lady we know
mealworms in the flour we know
cold hands and dark sun and oh god
you are a man I was hoping it was
cancer.

we pray for your sins. we wash ourselves
colorless. we carry you upright. we fumble
with the cookware. we oil metal. we posture
stiff and penitent. we paint ourselves with
carmine and supplicate. we swallow poison
and wish hard.

we say lean back you won't remember this. we
say child you have got to bear down.

we remove our hands from green glycerin and cut
our trailing hair trailing leaves trailing nails
with the bone-handled knife you keep by the bed
to keep us. we slice out our fluttering eyelids
and see soft iron. we feel for the cracks
and pound.