if i were a woman
Justin Hyde

all the men
with dull pocket-knives
full of paste.

the moneymakers
the janitors
the teenage masturbation cases
the poets
the almond eyed bundys
waiting to go tire-iron
on my skull.

the weasel eyes
carving my silhouette
like a pig farmer’s

if i were a woman
i’d have no need
for the feminists.

i’d either of
put in with sylvia
or hit the highways
with that praying mantis

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