Miriam.

When the sun rises,

I think of the daughter I do not have.

Her curls, like mine,

like her grandmother’s

great-grandmother’s,

shine red in the sharpness of September suns

and glow raven on Winter nights.

I think of the daughter I do not have,

how her pale toes skim

across seafoam, delighting in the chill;

then how she winces as the salt seeps

into the thousands of hidden wounds;

the daughter I do not have

walks with hands by her sides

her nails chewed, her dress cotton.

She looks up.

A smile.

I think of the daughter I do not have,

using books as sandbags,

holding up windows, walls, earth.

Curled over needle and thread,

embroidering a family history,

into a bullet-proof vest,

Helen’s stitches of blood-red guilt

pricking the tip of memory.

When the sun sets,

I dream of the daughter I do not have.

Who will never feel the seasons change;

Who will only know the ocean as a black hole

breathing in plastic:

plastic in the water, plastic in her lungs.

I dream of the daughter I do not have.

Who strains at the leash of politeness,

Presses one to talk to a real person,

listens as they disconnect her service,

and drain her of funds.

I dream of the daughter I do not have.

Who crunches ash and embers under her feet

walking home.

Never at night.

Never alone.

I dream of the daughter I do not have.

Who has given her two weeks’ notice,

and washes the cotton school dresses of

her own daughter.

I dream of the daughter I do not have.

Who has a husband that works long hours and

expects worship in return.

She lets Him walk just a little bit ahead of her.

Gift of life, no greater love.

When the sun rises, I think of the daughter I do not have.

Infant frame lowered into the basket,

Mother’s kiss on her sleeping brow.

Sent in her brother’s place,

she floats down the last clean river,

dreaming of the daughter,

she does not have.

Fiona Wilkes is a current PhD Candidate at The University of Western Australia specialising in English & Literary Studies. A fierce feminist, her work focuses on the plights of women & queer folk of the past, present and future. Miriam was said to be the sister of Moses, and in this poem she is chosen as the saviour over her brother by being released onto the river.