Men’s shame is not woman’s sin.


Take me to Iran,

And Irak

Give me back Pakistan and Afganistan

In the 1960s and

Full of free knees.

Laughter chimes in sunlight and memory

In that old picture I am crossing my legs

For emphasis, face focused with curiosity.

Then, when I spoke, others read my lips,

Interpreted my eyes, and watched my laugh.

Sun dappled courtyard, cobblestones made way for my heels.

As I laugh, I am light and feel like skipping

Through some perfect string of words.

What is more important than the topic I have forgotten,

Is the conversation I was allowed to have.

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