The Matriachal Order
Bound by hands and feet
as a patient in an asylum
Mother leads the troop of the matriarchal order
into our humble abode
Blades rusted in perilous tradition
descending painfully upon clit upon labia minora
scraping away without mercy
drowning dogma down between these shaken legs
This pain is akin to being burnt while alive
the impatient gush of blood covers the mat
as the oceans cover the sea
my indoctrination into womanhood is complete
they burst forth into a song, teaching my lips to sing
admonishment comes in rounds
to teach my daughters and their daughters
to sing the song of the matriarchal order
