What does it feel like
To give birth to girls,
The second rate, the failed,
All summer long the iron is out for frills
And through the open door
The garden sings.
"Dear, better luck next time,"
The doctor said.
Can you do nothing in life perfectly?
What is it like to honour and obey,
Put on a wedding dress,
Subject to tears and time in Holloway?
One does not know the shape and size of things
Until one tries them.
Paint brush in hand, I find
Our garden railings make up hearts
Along with all those bars;
So growing daughters do.
Missing the coconut, we threw to win
The pained, the honest and the feminine.