There was once a time
Before we were used
As a womb
Before we were one
With the moon
Where we were born
As bodies
At a magnetic zero
Our crotches smooth
At rest with no circulation; indication
Of what could happen next

We were born without predetermined regrets

Bodies as life without currency
Running through warm earth trees
Following lights into our
Tangible youth memorials
Eye to eye in the urgent wet dark

My friends are not made of glass!

I reiterate- - we are not made of glass

Midnight forced itself on us
And our chests grew
And blew up balloons
We were told to lock our knees
Handicapped by skirts
Told to stop climbing trees anymore

Becoming a woman meant putting dreams in the hand of pale knuckles and male grip

The boys were infallible; desirable
The boys were never accused of
Being made of glass

Becoming a woman meant shifting our frequencies to different notes
Bleeding and sleeping in separate rooms
Porcelain dolls with stillness for crowns
Others falling to unfix-able pieces on the ground

Slowly in the dark
We all shifted apart
To discover something new
Between our legs
But not necessarily our hearts

I reiterate- - **we are not made of glass