Submission

My point is short and quick,

I wonder who I am.

Not soul defining or Earth-enriching,

a woman or a man?

You see, I see the same as you,

your haunting eyes now directed at my legs.

Look freely, as you please,

and tell me how you find me.

Because, apparently, I have penis separation anxiety-

although a period and vagina have seemed quite enough for me. 

The problem here, you wonder too,

is where does that leave me?

Because I think and work and play 

but to motherhood I feel dismay.

If my place is not the bed or in the kitchen

and my hair is always lacking in attention,

does that a man make me 

or am I simply categorized as "lazy?"

* Let's just jump right in there, shall we? I wasn't planning on this, but it is what came out over my coffee this morning (erh...afternoon)... I'm not sure that the title works with such a limited poem, but it is an interesting idea if you really consider all of its many definitions and applications. My favorite being that writing this poem was only my SUBmission. The larger mission is still to be discussed ;) I hope you have not been disturbed by your journey into my thought-processes...