When a woman loves a woman, one
(Let’s call her X)
Stares at the other
(Lets call her Y)
From afar,
Watches as that other sneaks off
Into dark corners,
Listens patiently as she complains
About how men are from Mars
And women are from Venus.

When Y finally turns the knob of
Her closet door,
X is there waiting,
Smiling,
Holding out a hand.
“I was beginning to think you
Needed an axe.”

When X lies down
After a fight with Y,
The phone still clutched
In her hand,
She contemplates--
As men are often said to do--
What do women want!?
Maybe the real question:
What does her woman want?

When the blood and guts begin
To spurt across the screen,
Y exclaims, “That was awesome!”
X leans over the armrest,
A slight glint in her eye,
“You are such a man sometimes.”
Y’s lips curve upward as she replies,
“So are you.”
When a woman loves a woman,
One lightly runs her fingertips
Down the other’s cheek,
combs them through the other’s
tangled mess of curls,
And wonders--
As she often does--
What could possibly be the wrong in this?