Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
My body
Is my own.
I need not explain why
I have said “No”
To your assertions on it.
It is my own;
it is my only.
My emotions too
Are my own.
And they are valid.
“Calm down!”
“What’s your problem?”
“Hysteria!”
“Women!”
–It’s all the same misogynistic logic;
Lies fed generation to generation
to ignore reality
of the Other, of the feminine.
Poke a sleeping dog
–A bitch,
And see how many times that works,
Before you see
the teeth.
Panic! Panic!
All hands on deck,
No authority here to protect us,
I’ve checked,
This authoritarian regime,
Nationalistic foaming,
Has left no room for sense or reason,
If you’ve got it,
Hell, that’s treason!
Panic! Panic!
Virus unleashed!
No stockpiling or masks will suffice,
This is the new war,
The one we can’t dispute,
The one we can’t refute,
Oh, we’ll need a strong leader
To assuage our Corona fears,
We’ll need them in place for at least
4 years.
She of Letters 