Marin Poetry Center


By Celeste Moore

She was nine when she learned that her body
Did not belong to her,
But to a man whose smell hung to her skin,
Whose voice felt like breaking glass down her spine.
She was fourteen when she was told her skirt was too short,
Her tank top too plunging,
As if somehow the fabric on her back was to blame.
She was seventeen when she decided
She was deserving of their stares, touch, whispers.
She had been naive enough to believe that her body
Belonged to her.

Third Place: Celeste Moore
Tamalpais High School

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