In Response to “The Mutes”

Just why exactly is it
that men feel the need
to vocalize their approval of
my body?

Maybe it’s worse, (it must be)
that I get a slight thrill
when I hear the tonation
of pursed lips, notes high
to low. “They must find
me attractive; sexy? But,
why do I feel the need to be

validated

 by those who haven’t even a
clever word to speak?”

Their desire (perceived “superiority?”
indestructible “virtuousness?”) is expelled from
rank mouths, malicious eyes, scanning
for the next

woman

they see. Have they nothing
better to do on their drive than
scan the streets, the cars, the cities
for the
next woman?

I feel my cheeks
redden, flush, as the sound
buzzes in my ears
for hours. Simultaneously, I
am pleased (honored? smug?)
but angry.
My vision is

red

and now I’m hyper-aware
of the way I look
from behind,
scared another
car, another

man

with too much
confidence (unearned)
will signal the others
to single
me out. A call to
the men that

women only exist
for their aesthetic

pleasure.

But, they don’t
know that I
know that with-
out us, they’d be

nothing.

We must keep our
magic secret, safe
between our legs
where the softest,
intimate flesh
kisses. The

power

of the magic
must only be revealed to
the most deserving
and it is not, nor
will it
ever be

The Mutes.