After reading The End of the Road by John Barth
In the book, the only women
are slapped into meaningfulness by a man.
When they “give her a pop”
what they mean is to say they are a man
doing what a man needs to do
unto another in order to become.
Shhh, quiet dear, the men are speaking a language
through the application of their hands.
They say it’s a slap about certainty,
a decisive smack, not dominance,
but isn’t the thickest line
of a bruise what the eye follows like a leash?
Am I, a woman, meant to be led,
a solitary animal in a tight spot,
two slaps away from being able
to say my own name?
If I could be spoken to by a man
as black stone, shiny obelisk
then I’d be pressed, decisive
like black stone, obelisk in a tight spot
but I don’t trust any of these men to work for me.
They talk with their mouths open
arriving at words, surprised as anyone,
too late for thought. They speak
not to me, but to one another
about what it means to become
while I grow high off my reflection,
stone on stone, tighter in my spot, knowing,
certainly, these men never
really touched any woman at all.
Ruth Williams is the author of a poetry collection Flatlands (Black Lawrence Press) and two poetry chapbooks, Nursewifery (Jacar Press) and Conveyance (Dancing Girl Press). Currently, Ruth is a Professor of English at William Jewell College. Her favorite revenge story is Park Chan-wook’s Lady Vengeance, a movie about a woman who waits a long time to right the wrongs against her.
