Economists create charts
“SUPPLY and DEMAND”
to appease the vultures who peck at the carcasses of girlhood,
suckling on their milk and honey
until the well runs dry,
smirking at the sight of sorrow
streaming down the gaunt faces of the exploited,
their greed bottomless.
There’s a demand for the gentle caress of a woman; her hips, thighs, and mouth too.
She’s a commodity,
her girlhood spent prepping and priming for the highest bidder
until she’s too old,
when she’s been touched by one too many men.
There’s no shortage of pretty girls,
when one finds herself MISSING with a battered face
another will take her place
to meet their demand.
You want to turn us into criminals
for fulfilling your needs
to place a bounty on our heads for daring to willingly offer ourselves,
you’d rather snatch dreams from chubby-faced children
feeding them whatever half-truths
depending on the day.
They’ll believe it
never daring to question you.
you test our products,
but refuse to see us.
Instead, you want to lock us away
in a false display of morality
to hide your depravity.
You claim it’s “deplorable to buy sex.”
customers must be beaten down too
unless it’s you or one of your fat-fingered friends,
your father, or maybe your son.
You think it’d make us safe that our bodies would be ours,
that demand will be squashed beneath your lawful fist
while the other hand clasps around our necks like dog collars.
You take choice away from us,
mouths stuffed with cotton balls
we can’t speak,
you like it that way.
Our bodies never our own.
Just pretty dolls— their favourite plaything.
About the Poem
About the Author
Veronica is currently attending Trent University as an English major.
This poem has been edited and encouraged by Veronica’s creative writing professor and poet, Dr. Diana Manole.