NASTY is branded across my forehead
Singed with every shocked expression associated with each FUCK and SHIT and the occasional
Oh, so very occasional
“CUNT”
Do we own this word? It’s not yours
But is it mine?
The distaste stings my raw lips
And cheeks
And other lips
And ripped up fingernails
Free from your “Big Apple Red” and “Ballet Slippers” and instead replaced with dirt and grime and life and death
Not protected by a wall of fuzz and glitter and candy G-strings and expensive lingerie
“That isn’t very ladylike” prying my legs open and closed
Like those books not made for me
Movie cases for the films that are too dirty
And albums not for girls, girls, girls
But men
I can’t walk home in the dark with my headphones on?
Then I’ll trudge and yell and scream and listen to my music out loud
Every time I turn and meet the eyes of a boy staring at my ass
I’ll bash your fucking face in, kiddo
Stomping hard enough for you to feel
For you to hear
Or ignore?
Just like you did with the rally signs and graphic t-shirts and buttons
The Facebook proclamations of equality and disparity and destruction
The short stories and shitty poems
Just like this one
“This pussy grabs back!”
This pussy birthed you
This pussy will swallow you whole
Spit you out
Chew you up
And scrape you across that pavement
That same damned, vibrating pavement on which I stomped
And cried
And screamed
And bled
And will keep stomping
