Journal

feminist poem

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the night my soul to take.
If I shall die before I wake,
         allow my mind the feelings and design, the graphic orgasmic
         divine, the malign and the benign, the dignified and the deep
         seated sexualized, those dirty girly stunts that Mary pulled warily
         to keep.
Find me a girl who will say
“Upon me He’s never intruded,”
and I’ll find you a woman deluded,
         who lies in bed and prays for sleep like the child that He won’t let
         her grow out of, silently, violently arresting and divesting her
         prowess (followed by her bodice), no, she’s no novice to this
         game, she’s not to blame, He just never heard of fair play.
So that’s what we need to teach Him today.
No, this little girl’s not to blame.
Except she won’t, she can’t rub off the shame
         That bubbled up thick in her dolls’ eyes, that sparkling, dead
         guise that chose her, and her, and her, and me. But we are the
         scared, we are the kicked, we are the invisibly violated fray.
So let’s also teach ourselves today.

-Rosie