Venetia Sjogren Ghozlan 
Red Bras and Bad Girls 

The day I furtively wore a red bra
the world did not come to an end.
Civilization did not fall and momma did not have a heart attack,
although, she did accuse me of colluding with terrorists
and other bad girls.
 
The day I furtively wore a red bra
the nasty, bible-toting misogynist with his broken-down house and
battered wife did not pretend to ignore me instead he gawked perversely.
As he stared, he bellowed and muttered, “You are going to hell, harlot,”
and “Damned, damned to hell, the little slut,”
as drool oozed from his lips.
 
The day I furtively wore a red bra
the nosy, old bats that lived next door
with their prune faces and freeze-dried, atrophied vaginas
did not totter over in shock. However, they did stare and slowly whisper
drawled, excited obscenities that smacked more of envy and forgotten orgasms
and less truly of astonishment.

          

  Who is Venetia Sjogren Ghozlan and why does she write? She has always written. She was sexually abused as a child.  A monster visited her at night and during the day another monster kicked her ass for being monster #1’s preferred sex predilection. Her older brother was and is deaf and he suffered physical abuse from monsters #1 and #2, as well. They grew up in a bourgeoisie world where on the outside, were the upwardly mobile, college-educated, Hispanic family but on the inside, the children were being tortured by monsters. Anyway, instead of crying, she learned to write. Instead of screaming, she learned to pen obscure poetry, that the monsters never bothered or attempted to decipher.

Venetia indicates to me that she must apologize. She is sorry. Sorry that her bio reads like a badly, written Shakespearean tragedy. One in which, instead of walking around weepy, Ophelia became a feminist and kicked poor Hamlet in the balls. Oh well, such is life.
                                               
                                                 © Venetia Sjogren Ghozlan  All Rights Reserved