Doctor La Femme

Slowly inking through the inside from rosé to lavender folds    
in the air of white whine vinegar  
and closure in the pulsing film on the light of the carer's flash.      
      
With just, safe words in those she repeatedly sojourned.      
      
Fore-flags string up the drum country beans relieved of the autonomous defense from each eye sheath of wide shoulders      
on eve of a night,      
on the cusp of morning whose yellow draws first indecency      
in the daughters of women of East.      
      
To be left from before the earlier year without mark      
of teething fingers      
and undefined but for well-woman      
in a personal suite of white cushion      
where steamrolled push-less man      
inquired in hour absolved sewings of body-mind, and      
Father untouched her periods,      
partner unsaw her dilations      
and children of man talk bruises      
congregating exhibition of a streaked-out top (but Free the Nipple).      
      
"Pussy"      
is generalizations from male tyranny: "Get some".      
But only the gynecologist holds her facts.