Okay, so everyone else (Laura, Annie, Hannah) updated their blogs today so that kinda makes me feel like I should, too. I have 44 calculus problems to do, along with a bunch of AP Lit reading and an AP Psych project, so I can't spend much time on this. However, I started to write a poem today in which I am not the speaker (something *very* new for me... perhaps I *am* learning something in AP Lit.....) but it isn't done yet. ::sigh:: Oh, and Laura, don't worry about your Artist's Block. I've had writers block for like..... 4 years. ;)

So here's the finished product.


A Woman?

am I a woman yet?
my mother says I am
my father says I am
but I have no real proof

the other girls say they envy me
my flat stomach
my legs like a deer's
(except for the lack of hair)
my arms like matchsticks

I look like I would break
shatter into a million pieces
like my grandmother's china doll
if someone held me too tightly
or dropped me
but the truth is
I would only break
if someone did both in succession

"The boys like that," they say
"A woman should be fragile," they claim

but I don't feel like a woman
I have no obscene flesh
to arouse dirty thoughts
no wide hips
to bring souls into the world

my ribcage blossoms
beneath the nothingness that is my breasts
and the heart that barely beats beneath
is protected from the horrors of the world
only by paper thin skin
and bird fragile bone

and I can't help thinking
that the blood which sparked this debate
will soon dry up
taking my life
and the lives of others
with it