My mother told me should die
Probably before the baby
Shoved its crude head
Through a hole large enough
To swallow my world.

Another girl would make us
Like Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy.
I cried and hated my sisters
For daring to live while she
Strained on the table.

My grandmother called us “fellas”
and made me wash my face.

I always wanted to be Beth.

Note: I only deleted seven, rather than eight, lines. Behold the rebel! 🙂