My body was never my own
as far as I can remember
as far back as cotton print dresses
boys lifted for peeks
at what they gathered already
they owned. Adults only
laughed--what's the harm
No harm since it isn't my body
since boys are free to feel and snap
that strap signaling breasts and more
though I am hoping for plates of armor,
blades of steel, the words to say
what's mine.
Cupping a breast, copping a feel,
tell me where to begin
if not in the very pore
and hair of my skin,
call my body your own,
to bear child, to suck cock,
to work or not, what words
to speak, when where how
in this world you have cut out.
My virgin hole, governed
by your law, hangs on your wall,
with my womb, cunt, breasts--
you can see I am resilient
for still saying my.
I stand in your prized herd--
kept, bored, untouched, unsoiled,
'though it is you who do all
the soiling, hands of tar and feather,
grunt, shape, thrust, come come come
and we just lie there or you,
emaciated, in child's blood.