Darkest Cold Night. Poem by Terry Collett

You tell them what it is you
want, what is on your mind,
what you feel, and they are
in some other world, other

ideas on their minds, to them
you're just a dame, a pretty
thing, a face to try to remember
in their busy lives, the one

they make love to, have meals
with, argue with on lesser
matters, but he insists it is
the way it is, it's a man's world,

man's circus, man's power to
dictate or rule, to take pity on
the female fool. Lisa, he said,
that's a pretty dress, those shoes

fit you well they match your
eyes, look, Honey, I'll be late
home, business at the office,
big deal coming through, and

you think screw you, Bud, I'm
more than a thing to view, dictate
to or screw, I'm a Cleopatra,
a Helen of Troy, an equal to

man or boy, a mind to fathom
thoughts as deep as any man,
to see the circle of the Universe,
the distant stars, unknown planets

beyond sight, a fellow victim of
the darkest depression and cold night.