On A Day Without Patriarchy
I am no longer an imposter,
A raw-boned boomerang woman
who stirs the darkness like a dare
My monument breasts are a part of me again,
their slouched hiding spot a thing of yesterday.
My picture-show thighs, my ocean-side belly
woven into babies whose care
is not a biology-tired obligation, but my choice.
Today, I stroll dark allies without worrying
about the rape map of padlocked doors
or the hundred commandment list
of pepper spray and modest clothing.
I can have it all: the job, the family,
the pleasure, the pay.
My body, my flesh, my holes,
my bones, my ghosts,
I decide forever, for today.
Sing me whole. Sing me human. I am woman
Not a washboard or a washwoman,
not art on your wall or the princess
in the turret’s peak.
I unpaint my sister lips
and shout, like I would on any other day,
that we must live. Live.