a girl is an object

a woman is a shelf of trinkets. a poem is a box of junk.

if my memories were trinkets I’d have smashed them by now

How many times can a girl be told…

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Calm down.”

“Oh, you and your opinions.”

“Don’t be so emotional.”

…before she stops sharing, speaking,

listening

even to herself?

How many times can a girl be told to be…

quieter

smaller

softer

…before she relinquishes to the shrinking?

Yielding to the vice grips you’ve placed on her,

caving in.

When the pressure becomes too much

for her fragile flesh, 

she finally succumbs.

Making her nice and compact; 

easier to store on a shelf 

or place out of sight, 

conveniently.

A thing to be taken out and put on display,

or used at leisure, when the need arises. 

Just an assemblage of plastic, tin, and wire.

A fully-formed

object.

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