Fem+

A playful poem with a distinctly feminine touch

I am a walking femnity,

Soft power with sharp amenities,

A lace-gloved paradox—

Tenderness with fangs.

My mood's a femiasma,

Perfumed, potent, and unpredictable.

I drift through rooms like incense,

And sometimes set off smoke alarms.

My thoughts unfurl like a femanemone,

Opening only to the right current,

Closing fast if touched too roughly—

Try again when the tide is kind.

I wear my heart as a femblem,

Pinned just above the breastbone.

It glitters when I’m unguarded,

And cuts when I’m not believed.

I walk femwards, always femwards,

Heels clicking out my manifesto:

One part poetry, one part PMS,

And a whole lot of don’t tell me to smile.

If I contradict myself—good:

I contain femitudes in matching shades.

I pray to the patron saint of nuance,

The holy ghost of mascara.

So when they ask what I am,

I just wink and say,

“A fembryonic masterpiece—

still becoming, still divine,

And heavy on the fem.”