i watch you counting yourself out                                         
                    courting little pets of body-parts
putting pennies on the trinket shelf            
talking with wending wordage            
                 about those gruff fellows
who've been pig-holing    about your dwelling

that day  you manage a back window  
                                           and escape                            
masquerade yourself  as a gentleman
but they sniff at your aromas       
              these men in crude season
they circle you hinge-hipping
as you fleet the roads and fields                        
and evade  into the dappling woods
"come on out  we have you surrounded"                              
(you say  they say)
you stay  crossed legged   a monk among trees
(these pleasing defenders)                                

you take off your dress  and string it
            from one of these trees
you dole yourself out                        
little pets for the undergrowth

           you offer a curled shrew
from the space   your kneecap once
                          occupied

you droop your warm left breast
and drop a beast from that cove
(a plump vole clambers  fresh and
                        disorientated)

you plug one arm into loose soil
                   and the fingers snake root
separation at the elbow                
              and branches sprig out

both your thighs   animate as fox cubs
your ***** leaves from between                  
                         and slinks under some ivy

your hair fiddles loose and travels off
in currents of breeze
before flitting into little finches

your back crumples with fungal looseness
your head weighs low                              
             and the jaw lumps off
shuffling   undecided on its form

your forehead bows  to kiss the earth
and your face scatters  a gaiety of insects  and spores

                  all arts patterned about
your pile continues   in this mattering manner
collapsing efficiently    
you've canonized in nature                    
now you’re abroad  mature and freed          
to tell your friend this story
a spirit  without brag of these neat powers
one with mother glory

to be a woman is to perform
to learn to dress for men,
to perform for the male gaze
to be asked by aunts,
“when am i going to get grandchildren?”
and to be told by uncles
that ive grown in all the right places
im not even able to look at the clothes
that hot hands had burnt through
touching, feeling, squeezing
remembering their hands on me
i don't want revenge,
i just want to take a shower
his lips curl into a whistle as i walk the street
“looking good, baby”
im wearing sweats and a hoodie
“smile more!”
make me laugh.
i don't feel like it right now, i say
“it'll be quick, please” he replies back
and i'm left feeling disgusted the next day
maybe i'll take another shower.
scrolling on my phone, a cute video of a little girl
I go to check the comments
“game is game”
“if she can bleed she can breed”
i close my phone, scared what this world has come to
my friend tells a story about how she got *****
and crazy enough, we all relate
and with girls we've never even met before
bonding over our **** cases
“don’t sit like that,” says my grandmother
“it's not lady-like.”
it doesn't matter how far i slouch in my seat
how much i manspread
even if its not lady-like, he’ll do it anyways
because he takes ******* as an invitation
even from a young girl
who doesn't even know how to count all the way to fifty
“dont tell your parents– it's our secret”
hands cover my mouth as i tell myself it's normal
this is what family does, what men do
and suddenly i'm too afraid to look at my own father
i talk to a guy, he's funny
and then he makes a **** joke
i thought you were one of the good ones
foolish
i live each day in fear
is it safe to walk out?
no, we can't live there
the ****** assault cases are high.
when will we ever be free?
when will women be equal to men
and not just equal to pleasure?
filled with rage, i remind myself
i cannot do anything.
because
to be a woman is to perform

In the shower shaving
When I can't help but ponder
Back in the 12th century
People would **** each other
Just to sneak a holy peak
At the unchanged physique