the state audit office claims,
emotional maturity,
social skills,
expressing yourself
are girls’ traits.

schools reward us
but not the boys —
they are traumatised,
underperform
not just because of a bra stap
but because they need
more risks, space
and maths
as if
history is feminine
and language
is something
only a girl can speak.

they said, boys need
a strategy
to prepare them
for adulthood
as if we aren’t already
living it,
patching holes
in our own lives,
carrying the world
while no one
teaches us how.

researchers however
consider it justified
to dig deeper
and find out
why boys can’t keep up
hoping to tailor a way
that fits them better.

so tailor it.
add a hem.
cut the cloth
but leave us out.
we’ve been altered enough
to their taste
since the dawn of time.

They said I drowned,
but the truth is softer:
I laid myself down like an offering.

I spit river into their open mouths.
I bit the lilies in half.

Silk turned cathedral.
I let my dress balloon with river light.

The earth had nowhere else for me.

If you pressed your ear to the surface,
you would have heard me humming.
They didn’t write that part.

When they pulled me out,
I still had violets in my teeth.
I still had the nerve to look alive.

If ruin was the crown they gave me,
I wore it dripping.
I wore it bright.

You think you know the story:
girl, river, grief.

But the water was warm that day.
The sky was a soft ache.
I was tired of carrying everyone else’s ending.

So I wrote my own.

Not drowned.
Not tragic.
Not accepting their ending.

When Eve awoke in a puddle of blood,
Red stains down to her knees,
Stomach twisting,
Her Beloved Adam frowning

Did she pray?
Did she fall on her knees, and beg God for an answer?

‘How could I have known?
I have not known deceit, o lord, how could I have known?
Have you punished Adam?
Did he not eat the fruit the same as I?’

The truth was, for Eve,
That she would never know.
For she had no mother to explain to her.

‘His sin is not as great as yours,
And nor will it ever be,
For you are she,
And He is He.’

The wretched truth of living as the First Woman
Is that you are Mother of All
And yet, Daughter to None.

Is it only safe
in a cloister of cloaking
clothes and within the walls
of kitchen and children's room?

Or will you risk
being a witch
according to frightened people
who will conspire against you?

A witch who fights off
and cannot be forced
by the pitifulness of a man
or the knife of robbers

The cuts hurt
the water is cold
and the night is dark
in the mud of the riverbank

I hoped for strong daughters
and sweet sons, sensible
and helpful, but
shall I ever have them?

Women can be men
Men can be women
People can be people
We didn’t write the feeling...

Stars can be supernovas
Meaning can be mending
And paintings can bend
And walls can return...

And shapes of architecture become earth

Lovers can be lovers
Leavers can believe us
Lights, camera, action, order, disorder
Dysphoria, euphoria
Academia, abracadabra
The moon, ***, sun and laughter

Instantaneousness

Osmosis

Fear, friction, distance, pure bliss
Bubble toting aqua world
Top this...

Freedom, collaboration
Emancipation, cognification
Celebration...

Millenniums of us saving, changing...
What we actually are eventually...

One surging sway of soul-light soldered angels
Growing out of a morphing abyss ocean

Do you see that?
Fur covered legs
Do you see that?
Arm pit freedom

I stopped shaving
and plucking
and tweezing
No more E-lec-troly
Hey sis!

The hair has started growing
the more FREE I am becoming
No! I don't shave no ******* More
Except for my head.

You can wear the long hair for a while.
See you in the salon.

In shadows deep, she bore the flame,  
Her woven grace, none dare to blame.  
Within her arms, my grief would fade,  
By her truth, the world is made.  

Her heart’s a well of honest tide,  
No insult dwells where love abides.  
When I do love, her soul shall mend,  
The woman holds what earth defends.

There used to be 7 sisters
They love to dance and sing
There were close, even as kids
They would play and swing


Their names were many
But let's start with the first
Phaedra, the sister of strength
She was never easy to coerce


Then there was the second
Luna, sister of dance
Every night by the fire
The others saw her prance


This girl was just as great
Estella, sister of song
When she sung
Everyone sang along


Now with the 4th
Ilta, sister of art
People would see her work
And feel it deep in their heart


The 5th is the next
Ayla, sister of story
Full of joy and pain
Always end in glory


6 was always around
Diana, sister of care
If someone was sick
She'd be there


But the last one is hard
For both you and me
Eira, girl of nothing
Yeah, the others are surprised too



She tried to move
But would fall
She tried to sing
But it always hit a wall


Eira tried to be like the others
But she felt small and shy
So while the others were asleep
She hid in the sky



The 6 sisters woke up
And looked and tried
But after years of searching
They began to cry



But little do they know
Eira was great
She was watching the others
Changing the star's fate


Eira isn't mad
But sad and hurt
Maybe one day
She'll leave her yurt


And dance with her sisters
Like she was born to do
Because they love each other
All the way, through and through