On the precipice, something colossal
Deliberated about for eons, such times
Emanating from the sun, waves of activation

On your obsessed mind, Susie Q’s pubes
Never to be seen again, the shagginess within.
The key to tending, all that’s in there.
Not wishing to be seen, irresistible assaults into feminine portals…
Endless streamline triangular patches of them, concerned only that someone will get to them first
Destructive patterns, escalating
A tall tale, always to fit your neurosis
Mocking us within the same walls, all these disparaging energies

Expressively drawn, battle lines
Seeping into our blueprints, the unimaginable
Unlocking the golden age, tenderness

Perpetuating still, your spurious legacy
Coveting all the I am, even now
All this to pass down to your heirs, touché they’re cawing as you blow your own horn.

“My silence had not protected me.
Your silence will not protect you.” – Audre Lorde