In terms of what we’re given;

Like animals on parade

we are all such fun entertainment

and at the end of every day

we return to our homes, our cages,

like prisons

to be owned and never loved

to be adored into submission

to be placed above and beyond.


In terms of histories written;

we catch the end of the hide

like animals in museums our

bones are not rectified.

Death we are granted as models

to be observed like sideshow parts

we stand far gone but never at rest

our bodies displayed as taxidermy art.


In terms of memories given;

most cower to believe this is real.

We dance with freewill surrounding

never ours, we cannot feel.

Like animals as pets you see, we resolve

the lap dog breed. Toys we march,

parade and bow to our masters hands

and treats abounds.


In terms of everything we are;

captive like rats we pray we aren’t scarred

for beauty marks us prize or foul

we are governed by it now

valued based on size and smile

we are cattle, breeding the child,

ever beauty, ever young, ever owned

and battered on.


In terms of all our womanhood;

we march like ants you see. To work,

to play, to be okay, in everything we are.

Hold head up high,

hold nylon pride and everything restarts.

A beauty here, a witch, a sneer, and all the while

we are art.

Display us proudly, think not of it, our bodies we know

aren’t ours

Take us with a grain of salt,

For that is womanhood.

 (3 September 2013)