Ode to the Women I Call Home

I listen always as you pace 
On the phone.
I used to hate the strides down the hall - 
Stomping energy and crass comments -
Till I saw them in myself.
I remember prickly and long Unshaved legs.
I thought about how gross that was
All day -
Gossiped with my siblings -
With my cousins -
Until I looked down at my own
Lazy and uncaring stubs.
I remember you talking about your period - 
Thought poor men - 
And now I wave my red flag 
Like a sign of peace;
Or a cry for help.
This is for the women who raised me.
The woman who made me;
And the bad ass way
They didn't care.
This is for girls in the halls;
You cry for help
From the inside.
    We all do. 
This is for the women
I call home. 

Popular Posts