Opus

Women in Refrigerators

I returned the comic book

to the store.

          “Sorry, I don’t care for

          refrigerator women.”

 

Sticking us in the freezer,

defining “frigidity,”

making martyrs of the “meats.”

 

          “Sorry, I can’t read this.”

 

Some superhero sidepiece

broke her neck in the final pages,

but he’s okay

he’s back on his feet again.

 

          “Yes, I’d like a refund.”

 

Love interest “babe”

kept her looks,

kept her form,

kept her emotional regulation.

 

          “My own fault,

           I should’ve know better.”

 

They always said

we belonged

in the kitchen.

 

By Kallen Mohr

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