Dishwasher safe

 

A man once said to me

Who do you think you are

I said

I know who I am do you

 

I once had a T shirt

Where are all the real men

It asked

This offended men of stature

 

For years I sat on train carriages

Catching glimpses of page three

Sunday Sun

It closed down post scandal

 

I don’t remember a single time

When a boy had to go home

From school

With cramps and blood stains

 

When I argued with lovers

They had a habit of dismissing 

My emotions

For dominating my thoughts

 

The personal is political

Said the feminist with conviction

Even though   

Her pay slip mocks her beliefs

 

Who is born with a gift

For loading the dishwasher

Not me

Practice is what made perfection

 

I have learnt the art

Of succinctly stating my mind

To avoid

Falling foul of interjection  

 

If the man had said to me

Who do you want to be

I might

Have spoken to him again