I did not ask to enter this world a female,
but it's what God granted me.
I did not ask to be regulated by hormones,
but it is what is expected of me.
I did not ask for this child,
that was forced upon me late one night.
I did not ask for this judgement,
that is so easily handed out.
I did not ask to be called 'baby',
by that man on the subway.
I did not ask for the opinions of my weight,
which are so casually thrown about.
I did not ask for a smaller salary,
due to the genitalia I was provided.
But this is the life I was given, and so I find my tribe.
I find other women who grant me peace and protection.
I advocate for women whose voices are not heard.
I fight for my future daughters.
I protest the hate.
I protest the inequalities.
I protest for our Mother, Earth.
I protest, and I stand, and I cry.
My ****** is my home.
My womb is my decision.
My body my choice.

Having been a stray myself

I seem to attract them.

Whisky, all on my veins, the
golden liquor, The fine
malted grain spirit, aged in the
oak barrels for years,
The exquisite taste, with an ice,
or two for its anger to calm,
with zests of an orange, with
a lemon peel hooked on the glass,
with the light sip, savouring it
all over the taste buds, But
Its not why the glass is held,
All the times, its not all, Its,
Its about letting go, of which
can't be forgotten, letting go of what,
can't be let gone, most of all,
Burning the affectionate heart,
to debris, never being able to love.....

I roll down the window in the back seat.
The wind feels so cool on my skin.
I sing softly so no one else can hear me.
I try to hide the mood that I am in.

I stare blankly out the window from the back seat.
Scenery blurs as the tears fill my eyes.
I cry softly so no one else can hear me.
I hide my sadness and my laughter feels like lies.

The wind through the window in the back seat,
it helps me quickly dry my tears.
I whisper softly so no one else can hear me.
Give me strength Lord and always keep me near.

I roll up the window in the back seat.
We're home the day is finally done.
My sister whispers no one hears except me.
I missed him too, you weren't the only one.

i wake up to october morning darkness crystallized under my eyes

i despise my smallness
i'm not sure what i mean by that but the feeling is thick in my bones

i wish i had more gravitas or impetus or something else sternly derived from Latin and Physics
wish i had a lever long enough to move myself, to advance the plot
i needed to do laundry three days ago. i still need to.
there is a ticket in the glove box of my car. today is its birthday. it is one week old. its name is driving-while-talking-on-the-phone-to-my-girlfriend or another arbitrary combination of shapes that represent sounds and ideas at the intersection of the nature of human contact and personal responsibility.
i don't know because i haven't read it yet

i think i could probably be more than i am
(more what?)

it's hard to remember which day it is
they all sound like cars driving past my apartment and a bathroom faucet that always drips
relativity says that everyone else is moving and I am perfectly still
october is when relativity first opens its autumn flower self
some time in april I will pick its rotting blossom from my skin

i remind myself that lots of streams have dormant times when thirst exceeds ability,
that even great rivers sometimes choke with silt, reduced by so much minutiae
that it just takes a change of season to set things right again

i am waiting for rain