Strong like kingdom walls,
stacks of sand bags, swamps of quicksand,
or barricades of filigreed barbed wire.
It holds me inside.
I can see myself in eleven years.
Perched on sterile metal instead of
mountains of handmade quilts,
or nests of woven moss.
It will have turned love making and child bearing
from an art to a science.
And I will paint pictures
of how being a woman is supposed to feel.
Loading comments...