I closed my eyes and imagined myself on my knees offering myself to the glory of womanhood. I broke off the pieces of me that were brittle from getting hollered at and also threatened on the block. Shook forth the doubt that came from lungs afraid of change and brick-ass NYC winters. Offered all of it to the glory and asked for clay to rebuild. I’d fold purpose, blue lipstick, and declarations of love pressed into kisses on bluffs, all of this into fresh womanhood. Just for me. Just mine. I could do that. That’s the thing. If my life was going to change, it was on me: these hips, this brain,
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