Tell me a story. Something
about girls born with pearls in their mouths
who grew up and plucked them
from their oyster-shell lips and turned
them into their fortunes.
Those who did not save themselves by falling
on the laps of men with coins
and crowns, horses and hounds in abundance.
Tell me of women that spin a finer thread
than any wheel could weave. Those who tame wolves
with their own claws and blood and know the difference
between a sword and a fight.
Tell me stories from the seeds planted
in the wombs of our foremothers.
Make me believe it. I want to see the words
leave your lips.