by The Book

I was brought up by the Book
God’s word scarred into my calves
with leather belts and
flat palms bearing rings
skirts above the knee forbidden
lest my pre-pubescent body tempt
God’s wise old men
my curves bound in words
I was told never to question,
though I tried,
wanting a reason why
God would want my body hidden
when it was made in His image
or want my sex off-limits
when He didn’t even ask Mary first
there are very few women in the Book
whose voices were heard
it’s just men talking to men
talking to God talking to men
even that donkey was granted his prayer
while the women spent so long being silenced
they have trouble recalling
the sound of their own voice
but I know their story well enough
to know it will become mine
if I’m not careful
so with voice barely a whisper and
knees shaking under long, modest skirt
I’ll find someone to answer my questions
and if God won’t answer
I’ll find someone else
I’ll find myself