LITTLE GIRLS

Girl gangs with chapped lips and
Scrapped knees. The irony of cum-
Stained skirts and pink rosaries.
Ripped hosiery. The imagery of
Mother Mary the solemn chapel.
Untouched like core school books
And school lunches rotten apples.
Fight like a girl. The schoolyard’s hard.
Thumb the cross kept safe in your bra.
Bloody braces and bloodied thighs,
Never told – and you thought you’d die.
I thought we’d die, lambs to the slaughter.
We are not scared. We are the whole worlds
Daughters - a manifesto of school-girl lore,
Let us recall all the sisters who fell before.