On the first night <br />of the full moon, <br />the primeval sack of ocean <br />broke, <br />& I gave birth to you <br />little woman, <br />little carrot top, <br />little turned-up nose, <br />pushing you out of myself <br />as my mother <br />pushed <br />me out of herself, <br />as her mother did, <br />& her mother's mother before her, <br />all of us born <br />of woman. <br /> <br />I am the second daughter <br />of a second daughter <br />of a second daughter, <br />but you shall be the first. <br />You shall see the phrase <br />'second sex' <br />only in puzzlement, <br />wondering how anyone, <br />except a madman, <br />could call you 'second' <br />when you are so splendidly <br />first, <br />conferring even on your mother <br />firstness, vastness, fullness <br />as the moon at its fullest <br />lights up the sky. <br /> <br />Now the moon is full again <br />& you are four weeks old. <br />Little lion, lioness, <br />yowling for my breasts, <br />growling at the moon, <br />how I love your lustiness, <br />your red face demanding, <br />your hungry mouth howling, <br />your screams, your cries <br />which all spell life <br />in large letters <br />the color of blood. <br /> <br />You are born a woman <br />for the sheer glory of it, <br />little redhead, beautiful screamer. <br />You are no second sex, <br />but the first of the first; <br />& when the moon's phases <br />fill out the cycle <br />of your life, <br />you will crow <br />for the joy <br />of being a woman, <br />telling the pallid moon <br />to go drown herself <br />in the blue ocean, <br />& glorying, glorying, glorying <br />in the rosy wonder <br />of your sunshining wondrous <br />self.<br /><br />Erica Jong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-first-night/
