i went to a party to support one
of my close female friends and i
went for her, and only her, for i
knew anxiety and no one else at
the gathering. and when i showed
up, and the old friends of friends'
group poured into the cramped
apartment, i realized in a moment
that personality types change faces,
not qualities. and my old subconscious
need popped up, to please and play the
male gaze from a feminine role, or smiling
and laughing though the jokes are terrible
and crude because i feel fearful
that if i look like a threat, they'll
hurt me.
but the rest of my body overrules
what used to be monarchial jurisdiction
and i realize that i've never been men's
favourite, and in this room of previous
intimidation, i effortlessly shook hands
and held eye contact and kept thinking
to myself how all this time, i was smart,
and i was good enough. i'm not perfect,
but i do know what i'm doing, and perhaps
always did, but no longer use it for them.
YOU ARE READING
NOT MEN'S FAVOURITE
Puisi"The boy who pulls the girl's hair--is that love, or someone constantly displeased?" In NOT MEN'S FAVOURITE, this prose-poetry chapbook explores feminine anger, the wisdom of boundaries, and using one's womanhood to heal their girlhood. New poems re...
