deepundergroundpoetry.com
FGM
When they cut off the clitoris
there's a spurt of blood--
the deepest kind of red.
The women
throw the bits in the fire
then dance barefoot
through the village
to bring good luck
and ward off evil spirits.
Everyone is smiling
because traditions are upheld
the chain
remains unbroken
but no-one heeds
the smallest voice
of a girl aged four--
only one
of a hundred
and twenty million.
there's a spurt of blood--
the deepest kind of red.
The women
throw the bits in the fire
then dance barefoot
through the village
to bring good luck
and ward off evil spirits.
Everyone is smiling
because traditions are upheld
the chain
remains unbroken
but no-one heeds
the smallest voice
of a girl aged four--
only one
of a hundred
and twenty million.
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