i am tired of a world where

women apologize for the area

they occupy,

and think their most valuable possession

is the negative space

within hollowed cheeks,

underneath full breasts,

between bowed thighs.

i see too many girls who sip hallelujah

cupped in their hands

and sing forgiveness with sighs

that fall from lips like

crushed petals.

i need girls with wilderness written

in their starry eyes

and in the way their hair curls back

like a wolf's ear

pricked in vigilance.

women who scream, cry,

are not afraid to be loud,

demand to be heard,

to be noticed,

to be here and now.

gardens bloom within them,

blood red roses erupt from inside,

covered in thorns so no man

may touch them again

and from them no more petals

will fall.