for girls frail & brittle.  for body crossed

with a disheveled spirit. & everything in

the     name of gender distill

salvation. how much illumine a reflection?

there’s a sag  story  in shattered glasses.

every ample breast hangs as a pendant

of grief. of past merge from                    jarring

voices. of future that splits in shards.

of many solitary night that craves

the gift of death.

my poem gradient to a girl. don’t

know if that                   counts. & each hour

past

flesh & blood  she loses identity.

it hurts to rove into strange waters.

but girls sail

broken                      in agitated waves.

what depiction are we? maybe a girl with

the shadow of a damsel. mother

says we’re feminine ‘cause our legs opens.

 & we immerse  a cycle of  ritual:

       splitting & opening. [daughters of Eve].