The nurses shrouded the infant in pink
because by the nurture of her sex
{not its nature}
her freedom had already shriveled
up inside of her mother’s warm womb
{the last true refuge}.
The moment she breathed her first earthly breath
the stench of sexism stung her hummingbird nostrils
{male doctors belittling female nurses}
{slap / pinch / mansplain}.
What life was left for this tiny girl to live
when the world conspired to make her feel tinier & tinier
as soon as she reached the hospital room?
You, girl child, are biggest now as a newborn, still fluttering in naivety
before they pluck off your wings & throw you in the dirt.
{Stay down, they hiss, stay down.}
You’ll want to laugh at the irony
from the tangles of mud & slime
where you’ll forever be imprisoned—
but you can’t
when you’re choking on tears & wondering why
they hate you for what God made you.
A Baby Girl
