Devour the patriarchy and spit out
your broken teeth, grinning through
the blood and pain. Hike that dress
up, woman, to better lift those
combat boots and stomp the glass
ceiling to itty bitty shinning bits.
Then glue the beautiful shards to
your tiara and march on the Bull.
Grab him by the horns and yell
with all your voice, "No, I will
not submit!" Stamp your high heels
on those pipelines and stem the
flow of toxins on your reservations.
Grab hands, raise your fist, and tell
them all that you, my beauty,
matter.
We will not crawl on bellies any more.
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