I Love When Women Swear
When the words don’t get caught
in their teeth to be flossed out later
discretely, politely.
When the words just come – a wet gush
and splatter over walls like graffiti
framed in a museum
neatly, arty.
When the words punctuate
the passion that erupts from
the moment and spills like
numbers falling off a clock
tidily, sharply.
When the words are released
from the throat like a guttural
scream that floats in the sky
to dissipate an ending echo
quietly, peacefully.
I love when women swear
to forever stand by your side
passionately, proudly.