Sweet Creatures

by Elly Gault

in your headlights, 

creep like the doe, 

bow my head, 

pass the glare.

 girlhood,

not some passive pointelle thing, 

thick ruddy cheeks and

small stubby toes in the grass,

in the mud,

tucked in white cotton socks (with satin bows).

they told me i would be a sweet thing,

i am not,

these antlers grow in berried knots,

thorny brambled banshee shrieks,

tiny mindless bruised knees,

they told me i would grow upwards-

but i have grown outwards too,
filling up these stifling spaces,

breaking buttons,zips and laces,

ceilings, hearts, and champagne cases,

footprints in the glass.

they said be fair, be kind,

they imagined the princess,

never the knight,

they see the face of our wildflower riot-

and tell us to subdue, be quiet,

have you considered-

that maybe i am the hair on my chin,

and the hair on my chest,

and the snail trail visible under my vest,

and those flakes of mascara that wash in the sink,

or my satin granny pants in 5 shades of pink,

i told my boyfriend when we met i was multifaceted,

and he repeats it back to me,

multifaceted,

and if you were to ask me what a woman might be,

that would be it.