My Short Skirt

It is not an invitation 
a provocation 
an indication 
that I want it 
or give it 
or that I hook. 
  
My short skirt 
is not begging for it 
it does not want you 
to rip it off me 
or pull it down. 
  
My short skirt 
is not a legal reason 
for raping me 
although it has been before 
it will not hold up 
in the new court. 
  
My short skirt, believe it or not 
has nothing to do with you. 
  
My short skirt 
is about discovering 
the power of my lower calves 
about cool autumn air traveling 
up my inner thighs 
about allowing everything I see 
or pass or feel to live inside. 
  
My short skirt is not proof 
that I am stupid 
or undecided 
or a malleable little girl. 
  
My short skirt is my defiance 
I will not let you make me afraid 
My short skirt is not showing off 
this is who I am 
before you made me cover it 
or tone it down. 
Get used to it. 
  
My short skirt is happiness 
I can feel myself on the ground. 
I am here. I am hot. 
  
My short skirt is a liberation 
flag in the women's army 
I declare these streets, any streets 
my vagina's country. 
  
My short skirt 
is turquoise water 
with swimming colored fish 
a summer festival 
in the starry dark 
a bird calling 
a train arriving in a foreign town 
my short skirt is a wild spin 
a full breath 
a tango dip 
my short skirt is 
initiation 
appreciation 
excitation. 
  
But mainly my short skirt 
and everything under it 
is Mine. 
Mine. 
Mine.



Reposting one of my favorite poems of all time by feminist Eve Ensler because it seems that some people need be reminded of this, still. 

'My Short Skirt' is an excerpt from the award winning play 'Vagina Monologues'.

x

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