don't underestimate me

by Linda M. Crate

i don't know who i am
my identity
has been stripped from me
like a jane doe
in a morgue
don't know when i ceased to be
a person,
but evidently i'm only a woman
or what men
perceive
as such judging from the way
they view me like a piece
of meat
when my hips sway as i walk
my skirt flying behind me
like a gypsy anthem;
i am not
your conquest,
the ancient climb or the
archaeological dig
of gyrating hips against the nether-regions—
stop stripping of my name,
i am linda;
daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece,
great niece,
cousin, friend, co-worker,
poet and writer—
there's a passion beating in my chest that would
burn your baser thoughts to ruin
for i am a woman,
but i'm so much more than that
there's talent and emotions
woven in my fabric;
i burn bright as stars
woe to the man
that underestimates me again.