The Wolf Whistle

She’s sauntered along the street
Heels clicking on the pavement
Anticipating a wonderful day
Full of repose and calm
With hair set to perfection
Lipstick reddened
Rouge rosy
Eyes defined and soul alive
On destiny’s path
Sun shining
Bird’s tweeting
Against the hum of city traffic

She walked the boardwalk
Claiming today as her own
Confident; sassy; jovial
Her mood matching the beauty of the day
Her heart bubbling
Spirits smiling
But then in an instant her peace was shattered
By the whistle
The heckling hoot
Harassed humiliation
From the wolf’s primeval call

She stumbled on her pathway
Thrown off-balance to betray her disquiet
Objectified by the stranger’s lust
Mortified by her selection
Her sexuality penetrated
Embarrassed
Heart heavy
As clouds killed her sunshine
For what?
And why?
Her inner sanctum raped

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Harassment

There are many layers to harassment
The subtle and more sour
The clothes of provocation that
Are worn to overpower

The undergarments that constrict
With suits that quite immerse
The ties that throttle or perplex
And shirts that noose not nurse

The dresses that disguise the facts
And belts that whip and scar
The shoes that kick in teeth and head
The bags that hold no bar

The wardrobe of persecution
Worn by those still more and more
The constant form of harassment
That goads and plagues for sure

And with each fashion statement they
Torment so constantly
These items that persist on paths
Exhausting anxiously

Harassment, such a cruel sport
That’s dressed in many way
But one that really has to stop
Destroying lives each day