Friday, July 12, 2013

Sister Elizabeth

I don’t see
But brilliant, creative, beautiful
Sister. Goddess. Woman. Friend.

Don’t let them tell
you, control you, kill you.
Don’t come to me
and tell me
the only good
God-damned thing
you can report
is that you lost weight.

You’re eleven.

I want to grab you, kiss you
replace hugs dad won’t give.
I will touch your stomach
say, “
That’s nice.” (and mean it)
maybe, show off mine.

I’ll strip off the layers
and layers of clothes
smothering breasts that don’t sag with age-
running down streets naked
hands clasped but stretched toward the moon
screaming, “Fuck you world!
We have wombs!”

-Trista Hendren (1995)

No comments:

Post a Comment