This is Not a Poem to Get Ass
This is a poem for the daughter that I do not have yet.
This is so I won’t forget the pillars of my youth, so that her sunlight can be balanced between them.
This is for the daughter that I will have one day.
For the moments when the world says that she cannot play because she does not have something dangling between her legs.
This is to tell her that the only one she needs to open her legs for is for herself, when she stands up and walks; back high, chin up.
This is for the girl that will come into this world, pushed forward by her mother and pulled up by her father.
The girl that will grow up with alphabets and soap, and poems in her ear.
The girl that will be the greatest poem I will have ever written.
This is a poem for the daughter that I will paint with.
I will teach her how to throw a Frisbee and how to put her mind onto paper with letters and pencils.
I will teach her to be afraid of the dark, but to be able to walk through it when she needs to.
This is the poem that I will hold up for her to read when I cannot speak from the pride I feel when she walks, when she ties a shoelace, when she simply breathes.
This is the poem that will be there to hold my daughter’s hand if I am, one day, not able to.
This is to let her know that these arms will always be holding her up at the water fountain, no matter how tall she gets.
This is to tell her that nothing is perfect; that we all make mistakes and she should strive to make enormous ones so that she can grow enormously.
This is the poem to tell her that it is better to love every person, than to wait for one person to love you.
That even if that one person never says it, that this poem will be the blanket to calm her trembles.
It is to tell a little girl that one day the sun will fill her eyes.
And on that day, all my days will be filled with her.
This is to teach her to look both ways before she crosses the street, but to not let anyone see her do it.
This is to teach her to live life on the edge, but to make sure that there is a trampoline on one side, and if there isn’t, one side will always have the sky on it .
And to laugh into it even as she falls.
I will teach her that there are moments when the only person that will suffice is one’s self.
I will teach her that having others in your life, though, is a precious thing.
And that friends are never a commodity, but rather, one’s lungs.
I will teach her to eat ice cream whenever she has the desire to and to always have the desire to share it.
And though all the girls right now are thinking, “Gosh, he’s writing about the daughter that we could have together; I’d better give him some.”
And all the guys are thinking, “I wish I’d written that poem, ‘cause with that poem, he’s gonna get some.”
And though this poem may not or may have gotten the author “some” is inconsequential because, contrary to belief, this is not a poem to get ass.
This is not a poem to pick up women or acquire phone numbers
Or to razzle and dazzle the opposite sex’s sensitive side.
This poem is not for anyone but the one who is yet to come
The sun that will finally make my moon burst
The water that my storms are carrying
The steps that I will take to bring a song that is too beautiful to put into words
So for now, may these suffice.
To the daughter who will prove to me that my life was worth it, because I put at least one beautiful thing into a crazy world.
I am writing this poem now, so that when you ask me to dance, I will always remember to say yes.
~ Anis Mojgani