I am the woman
your mother warned you about
(let’s face it she was envious)
I have long since lost my place
that musty corner
to which I was relegated
where nice girls sit quietly
legs crossed and demure.

(what point is there in that?)

I turn heads with my stride
I watch the eyes track my steps
though I pause not
in my progress.

do they tremble at my purpose?
or pause at my vibrant colored sheath?

I will not wait
until you deem me old
to wear red with purple
as I rock bold iconoclasm.
I am that version of herself
where holds are not barred
by convention or whalebone stays

crash those barriers my friend
be they concrete or glass.

I AM that woman you were warned about
who will challenge your ass*umptions

prove each wrong
geometrically, logically

I speak without being spoken to
(Imagine the…