A Clay Woman
she doesn’t like Audrey Hepburn
finds her too ditzy, air-brained
unnecessarily fragile
she admires women who live on farms
commanding tractors and birthing calves
women who don’t worry
about protein powder or hot yoga
their shapes carved by work
arms of risen dough turned into crusty loaves
hands sanded down
waists forever dented by secure apron strings
she likes women with hair pulled back
and faces freshly scrubbed
women who rise earlier than cattle
and burgle eggs from unsuspecting chickens
she has no space for the pumpkin-spiced sisters
or men who think strength is their muscle
because muscle is only worthy after it’s been fired
and she is a clay woman
with a raging kiln
Alicia Lee is a Wisconsin-based poet and certified sommelier. She studied both wine and creative writing while attending college in Washington State. Her work is featured or forthcoming in Slipstream, One Art, and Eunoia Review.