Wednesday, September 14, 2011

I speak with my vagina

there's been a bad smell
a disturbingly sour smell
almost like rotten amasi
stirred in cow dung and milk

a smell from my vagina

my vagina has learnt to yell at my gynae
about his flawed diagnosis
that emphasizes
the propensity
of candidiasis
for this specific
body part

and i have had this conversation
with my vagina
asking her
to seek
medical attention

i have become
a prisoner
and when your mouth
became my guardian
i was muted
and i learnt to
close my lips
caught between
the smells of
the daily toils
of your thighs

i am the vagina
and i want to speak
just as much you do
yell about
and once I have learnt
to speak
of sex
your mouth
will know
of labour
for i do the shit

and this smell
is the smell of queer intimacy
caught between
fluids that
I wont wipe
until i can
finally air my hair

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Dear Body

These are the commandments in bullets
these demands you must ever obey
from now on
  • always love your own
  • and never hinder desire
  • please let pleasure just be
  • whether you
  • ready or not
  • in public or private
  • please dear body
  • learn to embrace yourself
  • in ways no one else can
  • and when you've unlearnt
  • the rules of conformity
  • wrap yourself in your hands
  • and let your heart embrace
  • that of your own