A Malaysian feminist zine asked me to write something for them so I sent this in.
they tell us our bodies cannot cross
into the blue rectangles, behind the triangles.
they turn geometry into the enemy
when the enemy is warm and breathing
they make pissing
they make the water in our bodies the enemy
every time we see the two blue doors and think
I’m not Woman enough for that one
and defeated go to the other one
pissing takes makeup and long hair and dresses
pissing takes huge breasts and swollen vulvae
cartoonishly huge sexual characteristics
pink bows pinned, stabbed through floating tits
tear the doors from the frames and leave two surprised eyes full of porcelain and stall doors
smash each toilet and urinal
smash the sinks
let the water flood
go outside and shit on the ground
make tributaries of your piss
put your guts into the world
i’m a carcass notched by ink
they’re licking the lips of their eyes
i’m surrounded by white men hoary and tall as trees
but with brittle, knotted bones that creak as they totter.
the wind is rising
it sounds like women’s voices
some high and clear like whirling chimes
others deep and warm like bog bass.
the wind is taut
and their bones are warping in the wake of each voice
their marrow is splitting and it sounds good