A fiery controversy
Though momentary
Rushed within me
Like a notion imaginary
The learned woman postulated:
“I am less than my strong-headed contrary.”
But my conscientious woman dissented,
Claiming it an illogical fancy,
For the infliction that I have borne
Can’t be repaid by the stoned man’s core,
And the juice of torments that I have sipped
Can’t be equalled for the wine He dripped,
Though I arose plainly from the rib of a man
No less He took his root in the womb of a woman,
Unmistakably He defined the Titanic’s fall
Yet can He gauge the depth of a feminine soul?
