Womanhood

By Caroline Schwartzbeck

Why is it that so many shoes look like knives?
Pointy, unnatural, inhuman
and presentable, according to the department store employee
who insists it's bad enough that you won't consider heels.
Look past the inhumanness and you can see, for an instant, what she does;
sleekness. Beauty.

But underneath beauty lies hunger,
not peckish musings but bloody hunger.
Stomach growling, teeth gnawing,
this shoe, no, this knife, is a predator on the horizon
slinking closer, flaunting itself.
You've fallen into its trap the moment you look and think
just how fashionable it would appear
with its jaws around your ankle.

Fall into the trap. Slide it on and regret it,
stumble-run down the aisle because you might as well give it a try,
but you cannot flee an enemy that's already twisting into you.
You can only fight it as it whispers in your ear
in the language of pain
saying, Sit down. You know it hurts too much to walk like this.
Sit down. It's not your place to be up and about.
You made this bargain with your unfortunate birth.
Now hold up your end of it. Sit down.

A decision lies before you now.
You can give into its agonizing demands,
take a seat and let the others do the doing.
Or you can pry the thing away from you
and stand, bare and proud.
Why is it that so many knives look like shoes?