Simian

I hate your
patriarchy;
your insistence on
Chekhov and bitter,
you made me
drink bourbon;
the male amber
swilling around
the tumbler
the pages
of the good book
ripped out without
any regard for
the words within
them on a whim
you destroyed
my literature.

Without the females
cries for help it
seems indeed that
she deserved it
and brought it on
herself, by laughing
Oh Shakespeare

you were very wrong
to suggest a death by asp.