Taken from the Rib
Of a poor man’s Adam I am
Pratt Pussy. I am laughing at Pratt
Pussy. There is nothing wrong with women I just
Want to avenge that original sin/sickness/my own sexual desire
(Women are the disease of
Pureness, we must remind them of this
Unholy unholy). She bit
The apple first I only watched (observed, bit
The part not touched by the flesh, hit the core). The snake
Looked at me with human eyes he laughed, this
Is the woman you love. This is your mother/sister/daughter/love/sex.
I cannot help it (I cannot help myself) around these girls they
Are apples I bite into them, I whistle at them, Ciao baby,
I beg for their names on the subway, I
Am following her home, I am
Grabbing the green ones. I leave when I
Hit the core. It is too bitter, the seeds may
Kill me. I do not know what woman means, I can only
Point at what they give me. Pieces of fruit, their ripeness
Does not matter. They are bags
Of organs and I am hungry and plucking. I call them by their
Stickers. Fuji, Pink Lady, Pussy.
I bit my ears when I heard this
Pratt Pussy. I am a girl touched by older
Men, ignored by dad, whistled at, my body dissected
In boys’ group chats. You say you are a feminist. I
Say that you laughed along. You let your boy
Reduce me to body parts. You let your boy
Define what a woman is, when
I am not sure. I know that she is not
Pussy. I know that men are gifted
Bodies in their own heads to
Fulfill the things they cannot tell mom
About. I know that my body is a language
That you cannot speak, only
Point at the rhythm
And laugh at the accent.
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Art by Thaís Curvelo