They say Modest is Hottest, which is just fine with me!
Three-Finger-Wide Sleeves were comfortable enough, a Box
to Check Off, as long as they kept me far from the flames of Promiscuity.
I kept my hands folded, my knees were always bent, and I was well-trained to
forget any unchaste intent.
At least I get to keep my Eyes! Poor guys.
Stay away from sin at all costs, which is all I could want—
patience the virtue every good woman sought. No questions, please.
Really, you mustn’t.
Don’t you know good Christians have faith?
Where is your trust?
The waiting will be worth it, you’ll see.
It’s no Fig Tree.
But I am (helplessly) a daughter of a daughter of a daughter
whose mother’s habits sunk deep into rivers and oceans and whirlpools of
spiraling downward commotion that left me
where I am.
Where am I?
—no questions, please!—
To pick up the pieces from the mirror that was broken;
a shattered reflection of what it means to be who we are:
Temples, Brides, a Man’s Best Prize,
Or Dead Flowers or Gum, Chewed-up, sidewalk-stuck Gum. (My favourite one!)
And words, those galling things.
Don’t you dare give a name to Intimacy or Pleasure!
When lines start to blur, what is Right anymore?
God forgives your sex! and no sin before marriage!
Hypnotically hardwired to go hand-in-hand:
Like sugar and spice!
Everything is Not Nice.
A mother bears the Promise Ring, now her daughter owes the cost
of finding her sexuality that had long ago been tossed.
Are you ready to marry, since you dare hold his hand?
And you better not dream of closing doors with that young man!
Don’t even think, darling, remember:
the Lord knows your thoughts!
(no questions, please)
Oh, and just wait! It’ll all be unveiled!
Life turns from black to white when those colours mark the altar—
sealed with the
Perfect First Kiss.
You’re free from your jail! There’s no rules anymore!
Thanks! We say, Though, remind us again,
when these shackles won’t bind and chain us to the floor?
And for how long, exactly, will Shame stand at our door?
No questions, please.