Far from March 415

"You don't question what you believe, but I must." How far we have come from March 415! They won't stone us or burn us at the stake now, Flay our skin with broken bits of pottery. That was over a hundred years ago. No wait, fifty -- Or was it perhaps twenty? Definitely at least ten years ago. Or was it two? Doesn't matter. Time is of no consequence. It is not for you. Today's special is slut-shaming Bold red on the multi cuisine menu. It was much in demand yesterday too. Yesterday's special was slut-shaming - It's an everyday special Least expensive meal on the tattered, dog-eared menu. Don't ask me about tomorrow. I won't come back. Not even for you. Did you hear, over your shots of hemlock? They have been rewriting the clauses Of the Charter that bound me to him With a lock of Persephone's hair. Slut is just another word for woman now. Shame is just another one of those things We carry in our backpacks and leather totes, Cluttering, eating space, Smelling of a week-old bouquet of roses from yesterday's treacherous fine print. You were not supposed to be. It was not supposed to be you. You cannot tell them, Hypatia, that you disagree You cannot let them know that you know as much as you know Or, in fact, that you know - For they fear that the truth shall set you free. Their lies are not worth you.