First off, we can start with Eve, who misbehaved,
taking a bite of the forbidden fruit,
a woman not afraid to risk God’s ire
or Adam’s blame to know good from evil.
Or Lot’s wife—does she even have a name?
who suffered death because she chose to turn.
Oh, so to love the sight of what she loves—
the red roof on her house, her line of wash—
that she gave up salvation for a glimpse.
My kind of woman: bold and curious.
I like the quiet, pensive ones as well:
Mary, so often praised for the wrong things:
her humbleness, her sweet docility,
her loving parenting of Jesus Christ,
instead of her most worthy quality:
her Buddhist calm in the face of shocking news—
that she was pregnant with the son of God!
She didn’t balk or ask to be excused
or worry what her parents were going to think.
My kind of virgin, guilt- and fancy-free!
Speaking of virgins, I’ll end with Joan of Arc.
How many smart young women wouldn’t want
to cut their hair and bind their breasts and roam
far from their fathers’ houses on their own,
making the world safer for womankind?
I see a theme: smart ladies with big mouths,
on whom nothing is lost, big-hearted gals.
Husbands, priests, daddies, bosses, sultans, dons,
choose for your chattel the pliant, docile ones.
My kind of women aren’t the ones you want.