A Boy-Inspired Poem

His eyes stake a claim
on my hair,
on my laugh,
on me.

He worships me softly,
wanting just to be near me,
just to hear me,
his angel.

I've woken up on a pedestal,
a rose on the shelf,
a jar full of hopes.
Is this me?

I will not be captured.
I will not be claimed,
my identity
destroyed.

To call me a treasure,
to call me a jewel
makes me less
than I am.

I don't fit in a box,
on a shelf, in a jar.
I'm immune
to his claim.

If any man would have me,
he must first learn
he cannot
have me.

- Jessica Grosland