At five she learned there are two classes of people
the pure and the impure.
The ones who have lambs sacrificed at their birth
and the ones who are sacrificed to God.
Who have the devil hiding between their legs
so the tip
of their clit
must be slit.
At five she learned she’s impure.
At fifteen she learned her body is awra
a glass vessel
it leads the pure to sin.
She was made to cover
the curl of her hair
the curve of her hips
the plumpness of her breast.
“Don’t play with boys
they only want one thing.”
“Don’t go out at night,
sunflowers wither in the dark.”
“Don’t laugh too hard.”
“Don’t smile too much.”
“Open lips are like open legs.”
At fifteen she learned she’s sin.
At twenty-five she learned to keep her opinions to herself
And like her body, she must hide her intellect
Swallow her vocab
Bury her knowledge
To not put off the opposite sex.
“No one wants to marry a clever girl.”
“Men like them dumb and pretty.”
At twenty-five she learned she was a threat.
At thirty-five she learned she’s on the shelf
That no one wants to buy something near its sell by date
She was no longer
g glass vessel
But rather a tree,
At thirty-five she learned she’s worthless
At forty-five she learned that her eggs died and were rotting
Like a mummy in a tomb
And she would never be a mummy
Or know what it feels like to have a baby in her womb.
At forty-five she learned she’s dying.
By now, she should have known that her value lies in her vagina.