aware of my thighs for the first time
the chafing feeling was strange
but that was before
I would be told it was wrong
for them to feel each other this way

a flash of grey concrete
a drizzly morn
amongst school-yard mayhem
when i ran for the ball
I realised with a slap
that my tights could but fall
to reveal a small clap
a self- conscious call

an echoing sound
of my dark tiny caves
and to those all-around
it would seem to enrage
that a girl could but play
on her imaginary stage
and be so unaware
of society’s rage

against anything
that could be seen to unfit
the symmetry’s model
or prophesied kit
and if the stitches were not tied
and the girl wouldn’t sit
she would endure the world's plight
of malicious hot spit

so read out the pages
of her cautionary tale
of ****** in rib-cages
that would just bring to fail
an attention that was given
to other females
as she would learn to despise  
her own meat on the scales

....

her vision hovers the waters,
with hands aquivered and acquainted
to the sticks and stones that resided under
and beneath the seabed
her mind floats like a lifeboat
of words yet helpless and taciturn,
she remains silent for the rest of the trip
but her eyes are more than the reaching arms,
she is a lifehouse, a tower
to each and every one of them
anything but an overshadower,
a breather of hope and endearment

(n.j.)