Ligature of Language

They say “gentle” before “man”
as if softness must be stapled
to power to make it palatable.
As if the fist, once gloved, is no longer a fist.

They say “strong” before “woman”
as if endurance must be embroidered
onto flesh to make it forgivable.
As if the cleft, once crowned, is no longer a cleft.

Adjectives are corsets-
the ligature of language,
cinching identity until it fits,
the silhouette of acceptability.
A strangulation ritual
masquerading as grammar.

Let the noun speak- naked.