this looks like its from dr.seuss book holy macaroni
Hood Glamor Murder Future Disco Idol 198X; Bond Girl meets B.A.P.S. meets Xanadu meets Macross tbh
The Scarlet Flower illustrated by Nadezhda Komarova
Does the body lie
moving like this, are these
touches, hairs, wet
soft marble my tongue runs over
lies you are telling me?
Your body is not a word,
it does not lie or
speak truth either.
It is only
here or not here.
In her jeremiad against trigger warnings, which has received accolades from academics as famous as Jack Halberstam, Jenny Jarvie claims that to employ the language of triggering in college classrooms, we are “structuring public life around the most fragile personal sensitivities.” Jarvie foresees that such a gesture would “only restrict all our horizons,” but, I can’t help but think that the opposite effect would come about: to consider the needs of those most vulnerable first and foremost would foster all lives, not just those Jarvie sees as strong or fit. I think we must protect those who are fragile. To protect the weakest or frailest among us would mean that we would all be safe. Trigger warnings don’t shut down discourse. Rather, they open it up: a trigger warning is a recognition that survivors exist and an invitation for them to participate in conversations on their own terms. It is a gesture that acknowledges (“I see you”) and promises at least an attempt to be an ally (“I will try not to harm you”). To work on ending harm to others - what could be a better use of public life than that?
I feel very strongly about this, so here it goes again.
This isn’t even close to the best line. Here’s the poem:
Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell
by Marty McConnell
leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses,
you make him call before
he visits, you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge. and you
are not stupid. you loved a man
with more hands than a parade
of beggars, and here you stand. heart
like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.
Those last six lines.