Collective Unrest

 

patriarchal residue

April 3, 2019

I suffer from historical hysteria
sponsored by men who explored
and discovered
the wandering uterus
which means I need an orgasm

to control my outbursts
my vagina is a sheath for a sword
my clitoris should be hidden from view
with this, I can’t be trusted
this is why I need to be controlled
I am dirty with residue

sew me up stitch code so I am clean
and faithful
remove my uterus and implant it in
my husband, I can’t be trusted to carry
remove my breasts with their milk glands
I can’t be trusted to feed

remove my ovaries and their unborn half babies
give them to the rich for implantation
remove my soul for sacrifice to god
of the first world

give me the death
I need to have

 

 

Amanda Forrester received her MFA from the University of Tampa.  Her poems have appeared in Indolent Books and the Sandhill Review.  She serves on the executive board of YellowJacket Press and snuggles with her fur babies when she isn’t working long hours as a data analyst. Follow her on Twitter @ajforrester75. This poem was previously published in Indolent Books.

Please follow and like us:
Newer Post

Sibyl

I will not sleep with you, so you curse me—not with venomous words or a mouth full of spit, but with malicious ambivalence, you do not speak at all.   I caress the dust in my hands, and you give…
Read
Older Post

The Polite Monster

The polite monster says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ as he buys you a glass of wine and mauls your friend with his eyes. He’s only dangerous to those who don’t know to watch his hands. but you're complicit in his…
Read
Random Post

Social

The restaurant is dark-walled and dimly lit with stained glass chandeliers that give it a medieval vibe. I half expect to see the waiters pouring wine into goblets rather than the ordinary stemware that sparkle on tables between diners. I…
Read
Random Post

through the night (oh say can you see)

Independence Day. Celebrate. Do we know why we're proud to be American any more? My brother and sisters tears can be found in the burroughs next to your hills. In chalk outlines. In oil hikes. My brothers and sisters tears…
Read
Random Post

for the girls

TW for sexual assault and rape   this poem is for the girls who get called “too political” for being feminists. this poem is for the girls whose “no’s” wilt fast, who memorize dark satin pillowcase against cheek and the…
Read
Random Post

god != Freedom

One chain remains -wrapped around our throats, Slinking into our mouths. Syrup sweet brightness filling the void With every link. To hide the taste of blood-metal. Coiling our brain, Laying roots. Toiling fields in Our frontal lobe. that grow blessings…
Read