a dewdrop clinging to a leaf.
I'm a pearl that has grown teeth.
You plucked me from a rosy bloom,
tore me right from mother's womb.

I'm not a present, a box you wrap,
or a breast, a pheasant under glass.
Not a paper doll you cut out
with scissors along the dotted line.

I'm sleek and sweet as wine.
Not one to wilt and wither.
Not a piece of broken feather fluff
you stuff into a cotton pillow.

I'm not a floating cloud to billow.
Not a marionette rolling in sweat.
I'm a woman, fierce and strong.
not a pair of legs in a satin thong.