Somewhere in the world,
A child’s first word is no.
The child’s first word is no
And her parents think that
something is wrong with her.
Where did she even learn
to say such a thing?
No is rude. No is cruel.
No is saying that consent
comes before blood.
No is a word that exists
in the scars on the back
of a little girls throat.
No is the metaphorical
graffiti made by a
teen’s sharp tongue.
No is the only cure for
the curve of woman’s spine,
Only cure for all of the
silence she has had to endure.
No is putting up a wall where
there used to be a sidewalk.
No is telling your enemies
that they cannot live
in your house anymore.
No is a ghost in your house,
that is slamming doors
and breaking mirrors.
No means to survive
even if you have to do it
between clenched teeth.
No means letting yourself
be called narcissistic
instead of a doormat.
No is turning your heart
into a crime scene before
letting it become a grave.
No means busting the window
open on a submarine
to drown out his voice.
No means not touching the
cup but drinking the poison
straight from the bottle.
No is setting yourself on fire
so he cannot get any closer.
No is realizing that our anger
was the only part of us that
knew what we deserved.
No is a human right.
No is the stardust that
flows in our veins,
All of our bitch-faces,
And our rolled eyes,
And our stubbornness.
No is is being charged
with witchcraft and
laughing as we burn.
No means I am saying
that I exist and that
it is not a question.
No means that If I am
committing the crime of hubris
By standing up when
you want me on my knees,
Then I plead guilty, Judge.
Go ahead and take me away.