Emma

Have you ever heard a train whistle?

Or the scream of a tea kettle?

Have you ever heard a parrot squawk?

Or the screech of rubbing metal?

I have.

Have you ever felt watched?

Worn jeans on a hot summer day?

Have you ever kept your eyes down?

Kept your chest hidden away?

I have.

Have you ever taken four showers in a row?

You tried to rub the darkness out?

Have you ever held your phone tight?

Wished you weren’t too scared to shout?

I have.

She has.

We have.

But not you.

Your smiles say it all:

Twisted and turned in a cheshire way,

Hollering like baboons at us,

Wanting us to obey.

We try to walk by,

Try to keep calm, 

Your face will get red,

And your mouth will drop a bomb.

You don’t understand what it’s like,

And you could not care less.

It’s definitely not your problem,

You weren’t born with breasts.

Yet we play this sick game,

Day after day,

Gesture after gesture,

But by the way.

If you can’t put yourself in our heels,

Our tennis shoes,

Our ballet flats,

Our abuse,

I have a solution.

Put your daughter in my place.

Imagine your sister on the street,

Your mother being groped,

Your aunt seen as meat

Imagine them trying to blend in,

Trying to not be noticed,

Having to hide away

Just like some protist.

Do you get it now?

I am your daughter you hold dear,

I am your sister you care about,

I am your mother you adore,

I am you aunt that went out.

And they are me.