47th President Poem: Things My Father Would Never Say, by Kat Correro

I couldn’t imagine
my dad
saying the things
Trump said
about his own daughter.

Not about her body,
not with that smirk,
not on national television,
like it was
a compliment.

My father
taught me how to ride a bike,
not how to shrink under a man’s gaze.
He called me curious,
not curvy.
He said you can be anything,
not if she weren’t my daughter…

Trump said that.
To Howard Stern.
On The View.
To the world.

He never flinched.
Never apologized.

My dad never
looked at me
like property,
never spoke of me
like prize.
Never lingered in the mirror
of my reflection.

I hear what Trump says
about Ivanka—
and I flinch
like it’s my name
in his mouth.