Rarely a Woman

Rare.

How rare,

how special.

For a man

to pay

me

any mind.

I exist in space but not depth

to feeble, sad, simple eyes.

So rare it is, in fact,

that rather than

making my skin

cry and

crawl, my

stomach lurch

and growl, my claws

extend on prowl, I scowl.

When a man cat calls me I feel.

I feel wanted, I feel seen, and I smile.

A sway lilts my hips that I have never

felt before now. A sense of raw power

and of beauty unbeknownst to the

young girl I had been for I am

now a woman.

His gaze sees me

and my worth.

I have worth.