I wore pants to church

I remember the days
when I had to wear a skirt to pray
those jumpers my dismay
but I wore them to school anyway.
I remember the days
confused by what I saw
not even four foot tall
not sold on what I was taught
one day I just woke up
saw it for what it was
and said I’d had enough.
I remember the day
I wore pants to pray
the nuns stopped me in my tracks
but I never once looked back
told them to call my parents
my mother on their side-the merits
of properly dressed females
but my father stood by my details
told him of my discomfort
that I refused injustice
that I would pray in pants
and he told them again my stance.
I remember the days
that I knelt down to pray
God on my shoulder always leading the way.
I remember the days-
Catholic memories
of standing up to nuns
and living comfortably.
I remember the days
only a little girl at play
when I changed the system
never needing permission
just God’s little vixen.

Educate me

Tell me what a female is;
a compilation of unhinged,
a figure made of porcelain-
with
colored vary tones of skin,
a body dressed in red ribbons,
a creature of no consequence.

Tell me what a female is-
I’ve been dying to be let in
to the secrets of my slit-
unknowing is like oxygen!
My lungs are desperate
to breathe again.

Tell me what a female is!
I’ve lived decades so ignorant,
as to my own narrative-
caught up in the experiences.
Guess that’s wrong due to your existence
being a woman is just some lipstick?

Upon second thought,
I think it’s just you
how ’bout
define yourself
not my poon.