I like the sound of rebellion.
Clap with me:
I like the way my tongue curls and flicks,
Spits at the air, the lulling of l’s and then
Dart. Poison. Gun shot. Bullet.
I defy you.
My mouth twitches;
I have a secret.
Do you hear that? Say it.
Say this line. My line: Rebellion.
I’m not supposed to write – I’m a woman.
I have no wedding ring.
No pregnant bloat and I do not, will not,
Answer to you.
My petticoats are in tatters; I wear jeans as skin,
Of then, of her, of you.
Because now, in this world of rebels,
Enjoying the taste,
Pleasuring in it,
I am complacency.