a river of denial,
painting your son
your daughter black
when will we stop?
when will we stop confining children
to ridiculous notions of what is
masculine and what is
(it’s not manly to vacuum the house.
you shouldn’t have to do the cooking, you’re the man.
don’t worry, she’ll clean it up.
you can’t cook? But, what happens when you get married?)
there is no place for your toxic need for conformity.
i own a uterus.
trust me, i can’t forget.
just because a river,
a testament to my body’s ‘use’ –
does not mean my existence
is only for you
to produce your heirs
to be yours.
– i’m not sorry, but i am more than the confines of this society. and no, i don’t have a boyfriend. no, i am not scared about getting older and not getting married. i don’t care.