Commodity Poem by Tara Star

Women spoken about like
a commodity
Men encouraged to join a
club, grown around ‘throw
spears and follow me'
A conversation
A status, a discussion
around which we never asked to be a part
Going for the jugular
We are limbs and curves
Not brains, a mass of powerful voices
and instincts, warriors with decades
of experience
Entangled, encapsulated, into our art
Integrity, a right to speak
Torn when, somehow, women are to blame
It's our job to report, to not be listened to
The qualified dismissed
Wounded and hurt
from decades of ricocheting
against all this rage

…
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