She Writes and Pages Catch Flame

Oct. '11

The form an hour glass,
the figure a female.
Straight and narrow,
the form, a male.
From a lung she was made,
so they both came from clay.
But clay you can mold
into what you want
tall and thin
short and round
it’s all the same.
To be beautiful
you must be thin,
they say.
Every girl should wear a dress
and slave over a stove
obeying a man
until she gets old.
But times have changed,
and they say we should fight
stand up to the other
stang for what’s right.
I never liked dresses
and I’ll bury my nose in a book
before I ever powder it in a bathroom.
I’ll be beautiful in my own way.
My mind is what matters
we fight to be equal
but if we’re all from clay,
if I am his lung,
aren’t we the same?