I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap.
I want it too tight.
I want to wear it until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress,
So no one has to guess
What’s underneath.
I want to walk down the street,
Past Thrifty’s and the hardware store,
With all those keys glittering in the window.
Past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old doughnuts in their café,
Past the Guerra brothers slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly,
Hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders.
I want to walk like I’m the only woman on earth and I can have my pick.
I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm
Your worst fears about me;
To show you how little I care about you,
Or anything except what I want.
When I find it,
I’ll pull that garment from its hanger like I’m choosing a body;
To carry me into this world,
Through the birth-cries and the love-cries too,
And I’ll wear it like bones, like skin.
It’ll be the goddamned dress
They bury me in.

- Kim Addonizio, "What do women want?"