One Feminine Pause

I took to own my body
regardless of my heart’s

or significant other’s
mistakes or whimsies. I researched

it all, and I set to clear out and shut
the place, knowing it’d be a tad uncomfortable,

a little risky, unclean. They said I’m so young.
Walking away from the office alone, a small flutter

in my core, in a place I’ve not given
an ass worth about before.

Discomfort burned and welded
KEEP OUT to protect me from

needing to choose because the choice
has been made. I lean over a railing

and heave. And from a quiet place,
amidst that ironclad sign, I’m catching

a second fiddle
whose chair I’ve kicked away

and a place at the breakfast table
I’ve cleared away

dimples and hazel eyes
I will never share

my preemptive choice
I’ve never ever wavered about

I lean face down against my used car
and hold council with this one pause

that’s come so so late.
A little flutter amidst the sign

has me wave goodbye, and acknowledge
why some women don’t choose to never ever say hi.


Photo on 7-23-15 at 12.16 AM #4Jeri Frederickson is a writer, director, and curator of stories and talented people in Chicago. She drinks coffee and whiskey like many other people but has a cat who could trump Trump for inexplicable noises that could possibly be meant as language.

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