I speak with my vagina

You
See
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

no
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
rape
violence
pleasure
desire
 
and once I have learnt
to speak
of sex
your mouth
will know
delegation
specialization
division
of labour
for i do the shit


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