Just smoke my cigarette; hush

obsessionful:

bygrabtharshammer:obliviousunction:

I am an inconvenient woman.
I’d be more useful as a pencil sharpener or an adding
        machine.
I do not love you the way I love Mother Jones or the
        surf coming in
or my pussycats or a good piece of steak.
I love the sun prickly on the black stubble of your cheek.
I love you wandering floppy making scarecrows of
        despair.
I love you when you are discussing changes in the class
        structure
and I’m not supposed to, and it crowds my eyes
and it jams my ears and burns in the tips of my fingers.

I am an inconvenient woman.
You might trade me in on a sheepdog or a llama.
You might trade me in for a yak.
They are faithful and demand only straw.
They make good overcoats.
They never call you up on the telephone.

I love you with my arms and my legs
and my brains and my cunt and my unseemly history.
I want to tell you about when I was ten and it thundered.
I want you to kiss the crosshatched remains of my burn.
I want to read you poems about drowning myself
laid like eggs without shells at fifteen under Shelly’s wings.
I want you to read my old loverletters.

I want you to want me
as directly and simply and variously
as a cup of hot coffee.
To want to, to have to, to miss what can’t have room to
        happen.
I carry my love for you
around with me like teeth
and I am starving.

— Marge Piercy