• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to content
  • Skip to primary sidebar

VoiceCatcher

support • inspire • empower

header-right

Main navigation

  • Our Team
  • About
    • Our Board
    • Our Story
  • Donate
  • Submissions
  • March 7, 2021
  • Fall 2018
  • Contents
  • Prose
    • The Length of Thought
    • 64° and Sunny
    • Beautiful Mask
  • Poetry
    • Once I Was
    • Fourth Wave
    • Apartment
    • My Daughter Discovers Synchronicity
    • On Narcissism: A New Mythology
    • In South Dakota I Spent Hours Touring the Third Longest Cave in the World
    • Gift of the Purple-Spiked Flower
    • Sunset
    • Expectant
    • Among Them
    • Guys Take You
    • Falling Out
    • Moments Before
  • Art
    • La Flor Means Flower
    • Siblings
    • The First Sisterhood
    • Entering Solitude
    • The Afternoon Path
    • PLAYA conversation (morning)
    • Zoe
    • Sophie
    • Percy
  • Young Voices
    • Untitled, probably
    • Today’s Special, and Tomorrow’s, and the Day After That’s
    • sheltered
    • to the boy i can’t forget
    • tiger lilies
    • catalyst
    • Turn Signal

Fourth Wave

Posted on 12.02.18 by VoiceCatcher

Poetry by Linda Ferguson

(An Anthem for My Daughter)

No more rabbits twitching in the shadow of a shrub,
darting out for a breadcrumb or bit of carrot –
No more rows of princesses sneaking out
while their father pats the pocket of his silken robe
where the key to their room is kept –

Listen, our hair is not our hair
but a fire, a flag, a new mythology,
and our icons are the sequoias
that stretch and grow
for three millennia,
their power surging
as their skin thickens
with the intricate texture
of lace and bridges
and with internal rings that expand
like our ribs
when we take in oxygen –

It’s time we understood
we are made of teeth and bone –
No more pinched shoulders
and saw-toothed heartbeats,
no more petticoats to get caught
in carriage spokes –

Yes, we are beautiful when we’re angry,
but not in the way that was once supposed –

We’re beautiful in the way
firm-footed mountains are
and the flaming coats of tigers
and the efficient jaws of a bear
cracking open the trunk
of a hardwood tree
where her food lives –

Our breath is our breath,
our names, our names,
and the wind that rips
the shingles off our snug house
opens its lungs and sings of us –

We are not the jittering nerves
of tiny sugared cakes,
and we were never in need
of beauty sleep
or a wall of thorns
and we won’t stroke
the soft fur of a rabbit’s foot
to protect us from our “fate”:

Just watch us as we
kiss the world
awake.


Linda Ferguson has won awards for her poetry and lyrical nonfiction and been nominated for a Pushcart Prize for fiction. Her poetry chapbook, Baila Conmigo, was published by Dancing Girl Press. As a writing teacher, she has a passion for helping students find their voice and explore new territory. Plié – Poetry & Prose by Linda Ferguson

Reader Interactions

sidebar

Blog Sidebar

Don't miss out!

Current
IssueRead Now
Previous
IssuesRead Now

Announcements

Jan 27

VoiceCatcher Seeks Volunteers for 2021 Team

Mar 12

Notes from the President

Sep 19

Conversations with Writers & 9 Bridges Present Suzanne Sigafoos

Portland, Oregon

Site by Edee Lemonier

VoiceCatcher, All Rights Reserved