Cat and Mouse

MediaProduction on istockphoto

The men at work love

to try to scare me.

Jump scares and

fleeting shoulder touches,

trail of mimetic footsteps

breaking the silence of

lonely hallways.

I find myself on high alert,

peripheral vision attuned to

detection of the slightest motion,

conscious of being

constantly perceived.

The Mouse in the Cat’s house.

I’ve noticed that they do it

to particular kinds of women:

the ones on either side of the

traditional feminine spectrum —

Ms Rage and Ms Demureness —

yet no female bodied person

deigns to do this.

It’s not entertaining

to frighten a grown man.

We’ve outgrown

sandbox jabs and

have bills to pay

from the sweat of our brows

wiped by calloused hands.

They walk away cackling

like hyenas,