I wrote it for my daughter when she was seventeen. She was in her first year of University, reading English Literature, and talking to me about books, theory and writing. I told her about my feminist ‘icons’ Germaine Greer, Virginia Woolf and Alice Walker, to name a few, and she laughed and called me a femmonazi. The poem is a loving (I hope) encapsulation of our conversations in the kitchen and a time in our lives when she thought she was so grown-up and wise. Now she’s 30 and really wise 🙂
Poetry Month Special

Walk a mile, I say
(See how far we’ve come)
Sad femmonazis, she says
(Dismissing my icons)
Postmodern posers
Running with wolves, writing in rooms,
Imposters.
Walk a mile, I say
(See how far we’ve come)
From the madwoman’s attic
In search of our mother’s gardens
Liberated.
Wild haired belly ringed barefoot
(She peels a carrot)
Mocks my compromises
And casts the first stone
Confidently.
Read more stellar poems in our Poetry Month Special Edition
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Brilliant as always.