grown.
anger ran through me, sharp, piercing and sudden, like you did during the transition of fall. you plowed, fertilized, tilled your soil, attempting to bring it back to life. this soil was lifeless, barren, brown, and confused as to why there was an intruder, a gardener, an intruder. who opened the steel gate for you/who let you in/why did you not read ‘no trespassing’/well come on in/you aren’t a guest/you’ve been here before/. my purple brown body lied down, dead, looking up at the ceiling that held glow in the dark stars, marking childhood, as this moment was supposed to make me more than a child. i was now a grown woman. grown like the women whose wide hips and legs spread. grown like the woman whose lips circled around red plumbs. grown like the women whose conversations you could not enter. grown like the women who would open/shut doors to men at night. grown like the women who carried pain when they entered new spaces and new rooms. just grown. this gardening now provided a rite of passage to weave through, stand in, connect to and merge with voices who embarked upon this journey that made them womanly. yet, i meandered, not knowing my place, as my body did not feel womanly, nor did my voice, because this garden had been used to comfort you from the snow that would soon fall and bury the outside autumn leaves. so these diminishing kisses forced my spirit to leave my body and watch your thrusting movements that compelled me to hate, compelled me to suppress, compelled me to not want to do this all over again, because i no longer cared about being grown. me, numb, drowning in white wine. you, gardener, exploding, seeds everywhere. i bathed. washed. scrubbed my body, to smooth over your attempted fertilization with soil and soap. clothes on. stars remain. hymen broken. call me a child. call me grown. i straddled in between. i did not care that my hips were now wide and my legs now spread. i did not care that my lips had circled around a red plumb. i did not care that i could now enter coversations that once prohibited me. i did not care that i had open/shut doors to men at night. i now carried you, and pain in new spaces and new rooms. just grown.
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