how little they think of women
considering
how often they think of women—
that intriguing mass
of legs and eyes and hands
ideally, pleasing ones
that, best case, caress them
and cure a persistent ache
and that, worst,
keep cats
and tell lies
Brigidh Duffey lives in Jersey City, where she is outnumbered by cats with bad personalities. She writes poetry about identity, ghosts, gender, and that lingering ennui that Catholic school graduates are forever stuck with. When she’s not writing poetry (which is most of the time), she’s an information scientist, nonprofit employee, and fantasy novel enthusiast.