womens issues
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Dear child,
Unravel me.
I am lost, a spider embedded in her own web.
Push, fidget, scratch, claw
Fingernails on their death bed.
Gnawed by fear, gargled by pain,
Spit out by forgiveness.
What did I do?
I left the house early
and looked down
when I passed a mirror.
What did I do?
I saw a man
and walked around
to clear his path.
To the little girls on bedroom floor,
praying for swollen breasts and long hair.
To the teenage woman,
trading incoccence like baseball cards for
what they believe is acceptance,
