She is a wife-beaten.
Yet she comes upstairs sometimes to reassure me
about sitting alone in the office—
I am not to worry, because
She doesn't let just anybody into the building;
Yes, that's right, I should have no fears on her watch.

And I don't. While she,
and the old women who chastise trespassers
in the women's compartment,
and the women who come up discreetly in public places
to tell you you've stained your skirt
are around, I know
that I'll deal with the screechiness
and silliness
and yuckiness
and pain
of being female.
We'll get by.

Maybe they'll reserve a whole metro-train for us soon,
so girls in stilettos and pinstriped pants
won't have to stuff wrist-to-elbow I'm-married bangles
in my face.