The Men's Feast

Welcome to poems by junior Kaas Scriven. They are currently working on a poetry collection that they are aiming to have published. This poem is one of many that they will be sharing from that book.

The Men's Feast by Kaas Scriven

Marriage

In a cornfield with some guy you never met

But mother said he’d be lovely

You wept

Used as a bloodline carrier

Nothing more than a machine

He said.

Friends

In a church with this boy

Same age as you

But it was okay he discarded your body

That was then degraded by the pastor who told husbands to be the woman’s strongest supporter

You told yourself you were nothing more than a whore

And grew up in a church

Who instead of calling him out

Ignored your desperate plea for safety

“What a boar”

Client

You saw him at your office chair

Greeted you, yes he dared

Only except, you were never a professional therapist

You had no choice but to listen

You being fired

May result in death.

Patient

Your husband sat on the chair meant for healing

While your womb was bleeding

Blood dripping on the floor as you looked your newborn children in the eyes

He said

Welcome home.

Do you understand yet?

This same story

These same paragraphs

Those same words

Used to describe the one thing that all women understand

The men's feast

They harvest our bodies

Decapitate our heads

And assault us that should be known as unexcused behavior

Not their nature

Why do we excuse this as the men's language that women somehow carter to?

Our limbs used as their red carpet

Before they eat the limbs

They mock it

You wouldn’t believe it cause no one saw it.

This is the reality of the men's feast

Not a celebratory meal for the women

A congrats on their oppression

Desperately needy for control

He said in secret

So and so these same stories I mention

And write

Shouting to the roof tops

That they don’t care about you, or me

Or any of the women until we fight

Bleed

Continuing to plead.

I’m tired of telling you, she is too

We are all tired cause all you need to do is to read and listen

Not to look for what you see pleasure in.

“I trusted you!”

She said

“Fire”

The girl screamed

Why must we be taught at such a young age on how to run on our two feet from a man?

We must follow his orders like cattle

We must cover up to risk the harm of our vessels

We must

We must

We must.

I’m tired of the men's feast

My body was not created to be eaten

I’m not a mans creation.