my type of feminism is like my mother’s
she greets my father every evening
half way at the door
she kisses him slightly on his full lips
she takes his bag
she walks him to their bedroom
she loosens his tie
she removes his socks
she massages his feet
she walks him into the kitchen
in front of him
and wiggles her buttocks
she asks him to sit
and serves him supper
my mother says the
things she does for
her own husband
is not her default responsibility
it is not a wife-duty something something
she calls it love and understanding
and she tells me
when i meet a man
i must establish
my own rules of love