Category: Desireé Dallagiacomo

My thighs say: We don’t want your praise, man on the street corner… man in the parking garage… man in Walgreens while we’re buying tampons…

I feel like the Grand Canyon moments before it became the Grand Canyon.

Girlhood (Noun): A hymn each boy tries and tries to memorize and still fumbles.

At what age do we ask children to imagine heaven and who is there if not their missing fathers?

We are the children ducking the fists of our fathers, avoiding the punch line.

I look remarkably like all the women I love. And how did I learn to hate it so fiercely?

I look remarkably like all the women I love. And how did I learn to hate it so fiercely?

We are not yet big enough to carry sorrow’s weight slung on our backs.

I, too, know the begging ledge on the high bluff of my heart whispering for me to leave the simple pain of having a body at all.

My thighs say: We don’t want your praise, man on the street corner… man in the parking garage… man in Walgreens while we’re buying tampons…