I live in a land where a fresh corpse
has more rights to its decaying self
than I do over my own body
you want a zombie? Fine
allow me to become your zombie
not so you can call me brainless and unintelligent
so you can point your precious gun to my face and
play the judge and jury
not so I can walk around dumb and numb,
unaware of my surroundings as I walk, a dead man,
in this land made on the backs of my ancestors and
the blood of innocents, the blood of women, the blood of soldiers
but so I may wrap my lips around your hard flesh
take you down my throat and
take away what you consider makes you a man
- feral kenyon
YOU ARE READING
the feral woman / aphorisms, prose, and poetry
PoetrySo often have women been told to subdue their feral natures. Sit pretty and say less; act this way and that or risk being unladylike. Our femininity is putty in the hands of patriarchy, and unless we acknowledge the women inside of us -- the pure, u...
