Womanishness Poem by Amy Gerstler

The dissonance of women. The shrill frilly silly
drippy prissy pouty fuss of us. And all the while
science was the music of our minds. Our sexual
identities glittery as tinsel, we fretted about god's
difficulties with intimacy, waiting for day's luster
to fade so we could slip into something less
venerated. Like sea anemones at high tide
our minds snatched at whatever rushed by.
Hush, hush my love. All these things happened
a long time ago. You needn't be afraid of them now.