Do you know the muffin man?
The muffin man who carved his hands
into muffin shapes, to lure in girls
he later rapes, with trembling hearts
caged in trembling ribs,
the unformed bodies of naive kids
who hold, unswervingly, to hopes
and dreams and untold jokes
forgetting words their mothers spoke
“don’t talk to strangers”, “unroll your skirt”
“let old men treat you like pieces of dirt”
“she was egging me on - that twelve year old s***”

this one goes out to the girl in the hut
tricked into illusions of inferiority
trapped under the patriarchy’s authority
her father waits, he stays up late
strange men with strange smells brought into the home
smart shirts in all shades of monochrome
shed like snakeskins for the angel of the night
angel? little devil wouldn’t put up a fight

and here’s one for the girls told stand up straight
and have good manners, always wait
to be spoken to, never talk out of turn
or we’ll whip out the ruler, that’s one way to learn,
remember to enunciate, always be fashionably late
but never rude, and oh dear lord she’s eating food?

we’re cut out like a string of dolls on tracing paper
triangular skirts, just below the knee and later
maybe we’ll earn our bittersweet freedom
to exist not purely to alleviate his boredom
but for now, let me say, without hope or agenda

let me paint you a sky unaffected by gender
where girls aren’t simply taught how to avoid an assault
and the unlucky ones know it isn’t their fault
is ‘unlucky’ the word for an act that’s a crime?
let’s stop building lead walls, let’s fast forward time
to an era of equality and emancipation
to a time where the word ‘no’ isn’t lost in translation

let’s stop holding keys between knuckles at night
let them know we’re not going down without a fight
above all, remember you’re made of starlight.