Arielle Tipa "Adam"


They limit you
summarize you
condense
you to
sugar-riddled daydreams,
and sales on cotton negligees
that emphasize the evidence
of your womanhood,
of your potential
for a double-take.
They assume you want to be a teacher,
just so you can harness
your maternal faculties –
it’s inborn, you are a girl,
after all.

They assume they are
the unassailable prodigies –
first-born, first priorities
of a scorched earth.
God is a man, after all.


They forget that
they did not come
crawling out
of an undulating void
with overwhelming varieties
of pink and pitch.
Instead,
They were forced out
by the lacerating, undaunted
hands of a woman,
who consoled their case
in having a boy.