Gali

The little girl sat in her swing

blond curls the way they are before

you grow up the everywhere I don't care

it looks like my hair was woven from sunlight

a throne for a flower crown.

Give the lights a sickly yellow glow

Let me reflect 

The scribbled-on stall doors and brightly-colored posters

Framing her face, to remind her 

For every woman being raped.

For every trans made illegal.

For every Native forced out of their home.

For every black person called “lesser.”

I’m standing there, minding my own,
 Unarmed, no threat, just skin and bone.
 But he sees me, and I’m already guilty,
 Not for what I’ve done, but for how I look, for where I’ve been, for the color of my skin.

If only it was because  

you were fifteen  

and I was thirteen  

but it wasn’t.  

Not really.  

If only i had smiled differently,
worn a different skirt, a longer one,
if i had stayed quiet, let him win,
shrunk smaller, been easier to touch,
been harder to hurt, laughed when i wanted to cry,
cried when i wanted to scream.