Poem to My Daughters When They Come of Age
by Michael Farkas
Dear Daughter of Mine,
Love of my life,
Sweet blossom of ribbon,
-Listen.
Men will pull at you.
Squeeze you.
Attempt to get you all undone.
-They will.
Rip at you,
Tear at your dress,
Dig their fingers into you.
-Normal.
Some will say they love you.
Swearing up and down.
Because you are pretty.
You – are – SO – pretty.
Some men will ask nicely.
Some men won’t.
Those who do not will blame you.
-So don’t.
Some want beauty.
Some your hand.
Some want your eggs.
Some your land.
If he is nervous,
There may be much more.
First do the homework to find out,
-What for?
If a boy’s letters,
Make you feel nice,
Go out for dinner,
Split the price.
Should he insist,
That only he pay,
Don’t grant his wish,
Don’t look away.
Not to the side,
Not to the floor,
Not to the folks who just walked in the door.
-Watch him.
His eyes should be fixed.
Upon yours and your chest.
Whomever he is,
Those two things, boys like best.
So before you consider,
Unhooking a hook,
Untying a ribbon,
Or kissing a crook.
Remember your Dad,
Who’s a son of a bitch.
Who can write pretty letters,
To make women twitch.
A boy’s love is only as good as his eyes.
A man can mask even those,
Tell wicked lies.
Sit straight up, Daughter.
Stick out your chest.
Fact is fact.
Boys are mess.
When he knows well,
You can beat him at chess.
Maybe some kissing.
If he’s a pest.
Not that check mate really means anything.
Can he smile when he kisses,
Smile when he sings?
Love’s game has far more than
Squares sixty-four.
More ways than that too: to call you a whore.
So remember your Dad,
Who’s a son of a bitch.
Who can write pretty letters,
To make women itch.
It is all in the eyes in the kisses and song.
Should one of these three not be right,
It’s all wrong.
Perhaps you will find him,
One day ‘pon a wish.
Till then
-think of me when you’re dating,
Capice?