It is neither legend nor myth—
we all began the same way. I have nurtured desire
in the small of an egg, curled green pencil bodies
around my wrists like jade. A girl needs her beauty no matter what
she believes and these are my jewels, my treasure seeds.
You with your thoughts, books, plainly shaped knees,
do not judge. Girlhood, childhood,
it was all the same and you shrieked at the boys
with their boxes, stripe lizard skins—
told me to run away. I have never understood
escaping from what was so easily tamed
and I lifted those lids, ran fingers down pets,
set myself free. Sister, I’ve no desire for mirrors,
there’s no reflection in me.

T.E. BALLARD is a professional artist and writer now living in the Midwest with her two young daughters. You can find more of her work in The Melic Review, Mandrake Press, Tryst, Three Candles, Gumball Poetry, Pierian Springs,The Poet's Canvas, Snow Monkey Press and as the Special Merit Winner in the 2002 Muriel Craft Bailey Memorial Award sponsored by Comstock Review.