Fifteen
My daughter
already knows her
body is both a
currency and a
liability.
She poses
strategically; you will
hardly ever
catch her lost in a
candid moment of
purely inhabiting her
physical space as she used to.
She inherits the impossible
awareness of every
woman- her
seductive power, and
hyper-vigilance
against unwanted
attention.
Her shoulders
too distracting to future
men trying to
learn, her thighs too
sensual to carry
her between classes all
bare and
tempting.
Her breasts will
eventually come for
her, as her mothers’, aunts’ and
grandmother’s have.
Her womb is
claimed as property of
the state, that
collective consciousness
deeming her heart,
her dreams,
her future
contributions irrelevant,
secondary to her
evolutionary function.
As if she
wasn’t already
afraid and
ashamed
enough.
5 thoughts on "Fifteen"
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Beautifully written especially for today!
How many poems and missives are being written today. This is great. Thank you for writing it.
Her breasts will
eventually come for
her, as her mothers’, aunts’ and
grandmother’s have.
Even biology is out to get us
I cried Austen. 😍
Thank you, friends.