Childhood Days

There was a day

A day she began

To crave the destruction

Of hands raised in fury

Of jagged edged words

Of nostrils flaring over thin lips

 

There was a day

A day she decided

To never let herself be pretty

Old men creep, searching for pretty

Cast kisses in basement rooms

Grope with knotted blue hands

 

There was a day

A day she announced

She’d never choose a dress again

Flowing skirts trip running legs

Wave wildly, a banner announcing softness

Dresses beg their eyes to follow you

 

There was a day

A day she chose

To clothe herself in shades of red

As a lure to honeybees and sweet-seekers

As a warning of the fire within

As a vestige of outrage

 

There was a day

A day she seized

Control over the inevitable

Power is born from instigation

Men are ships propelled by desires

Few can withstand a constant warm breeze

 

There was a day

A day she sprouted

An iron rod in place of a spine

Taut jutting shoulder blades

Iron cannot be broken by the hands

Of even the strongest of men

 

There was a day

A day she learned

To jab her chin towards the sky

Where there aren’t eyes to meet

Where she was untouchable

Jaw uplifted like middle finger

 

The was a day

A day she mastered

The art of throwing words like knives

The slicing fury of seething black wit

Held against underbellies

The unlacing of souls by tongue

 

There was a day

A day she discovered

Her brows could slash dark

Over  half-masted eyes

As weapons of defense

Against an encroaching army

 

There was a day

A day she started

To craft her face from marble

Chisel defiance from rock

Coarse sculpture of a girl’s profile

If not beautiful, at least cold and hard

 

There was a day

A day she realized

How fragile her homespun walls

A tower of blocks disturbed

A paper crown torn from head

So much glitter scattered to the wind

 

Photo Credit: First Day: Calendar by Eric Rice; Flickr; used under Creative Commons License.
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