Momma never taught me
to respect myself, to value
my femininity; she said:
Boys will be boys, and girls,
I heard, are entertainment,
but I ain’t no games table –
constructed for versatility,
adaptable to men’s whims,
waiting around for the game
to give me life – no hostess
for contests of male superiority,
not an object to be manipulated –
juveniles playing with sticks
looking to sink their balls
in my pockets – I am done
with delinquent impudence,
tired of objectified attention,
need to lock it all away, until
I can rid myself of these
counterproductive sentiments,
find me an authority to override
Momma’s tainted perceptions.
(Image: britainfirst.net)
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One Woman's Quest 
Oh my, this is beautiful poetry. I really think you should try submitting it to places. It really spoke to me.
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Thank you! I am thinking about it – always hard to be objective about one’s own work.
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