He called you a bitch,
like he knew you–
like he knew what motivated your artist heart.
If you were a man, they would call you
eccentric, particular, genius.
You wanted space, a room of your own,
and he calls you a bitch–
Diva maybe, but not bitch.
You wanted privacy to keep prying eyes from
your infant works.
Isn’t every mother protective of her young?