Alix Olson Daughter
I'll teach my daughter
To bang on anything that makes a beat
She'll shake-a-boom
She'll quake a room
She'll paint her cheeks warrior-style, then smile
Beguile you, turn you inside out
Til your guts plead guilty
She'll be built like a truck
Built to work you down
As she works herself up
She'll make holes in the streets
In her ten inch spike heels
In combat boots, stilts, on roller wheels
She'll stroll through Male Pride
Amazon Babes at her side
She'll relinquish White Privilege
Obsеrve, be wise
Shе'll compromise
When the fire is stoked by Other Womyn's desires
But She'll never leave the flame
All the same, She'll crave what makes her burn
She'll learn her Cunt's good name-
The thick red lips, the small hot tip
No more of this cryptic shit
This Vagina will be known
She'll park in all the wrong places
Make faces at police cars
Wind up behind bars, bust out big before serving her time
Fingernails full of this grime we call
Reality
She'll dig her way through
She'll pick her nose when she has to
She'll scratch her ass
She'll be a crass medusa child
A wild healthy Fiend
She'll live in all fonts and all sizes
Curly q's, caps, italics, and Bold
She'll fold airplanes out of shredded Cosmos
And Mademoiselles
Then pilot them to Never-Say-Never Land
Where Peter Pan's gay and Wendy's ok with it
She'll wear thick braids
She'll shave her head
She'll eat thick breads
She'll let her breasts flop
She'll mop the floor like Cinderella
Then with Rebellion- Prowess
She'll unionize Daughters for a higher allowance
She'll be male and female and in-between
She'll preen, then crack her mirror, crack a beer
And watch Love Connection
She'll go for days without taking a shower
Just to feel unchained ivory-slave power
She'll want more than what She's entitled to
She'll watch through
Nike commercials
And She'll Just Un-Do It
Ask Who's making that shit
Who's breaking their backs
Keeping her breaking that
Glass ceiling
She'll do all of this
And She'll do none of this
And it's funny how we hide behind these Daughters
Hide ahead of our own Herstories
Scared of ourselves
Scared of the world
Scared of Someone
Who made us
One way
Or another
Well, this time around
I'll be bound to my own mind womb
In my own birthing room
I'll squeeze out, squeeze out
Each crimson thick belief
Then eat each pungent, sweet placenta
And relieved
I will tear up this country's
"Welcome to the World" certificate
Tear off my father's father's father's father's name
I'll legitimate my own entrance into a
Thinking Existence
I will birth myself towards resistance
But no frantic tick-tock of this Biological Clock
On my own time
Foremothers at my sides
Sisters as midwives
I'll cut my cord, head for that War
I will birth myself into this drum beating bastard child
Head first, heat first
Mind first, mind first
I will mother myself into my own grown Daughter
And I will call myself a
Home-Grown Woman