you call me shrill
loud
bitch
whenever I interrupt
whatever VERY important thing
you must be saying
to speak my truth
your tone patronizingly implying
that my voice is so shrill
it could break mirrors
etch glass
whenever I am audacious enough
to steal the floor from you
to speak
but why settle for merely etching  glass
when I could engrave metal
chisel granite
write my truth onto the very stars?
maybe I am a shrill
loud bitch
. . . but that doesn’t make me wrong

© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved