(poem by Anais La-Chon)
My female anger
This small body only has so much space
I’d like it to be filled with flowery images, lovely smiles, intimate eyes
Maybe a snapshot of a field, someone dancing with the swaying leaves,
A laugh, a hush, and a whisper
Wind tickling my nose, sun caressing my hand,
And a twinkle of a melody from the river,
Yeah, that’s what I’d like.
But, you see, I am afraid.
My small body fears you.
My head’s filled with hallucinations, slurring lips, uncomfortable stares,
Maybe a vision of a face, someone grabbing me under my flowing dress,
A laugh, a hush, and a whisper,
Breath smothering my ears, hands gripping my waist,
And a throb of a headache from my temples,
Yeah, that’s what I remember.
But, you see, it was my fault.
My drink’s filled with innocence, naïve flavours, unknowing glances,
Maybe a scene of a club, someone slipping a little pill,
A laugh, a hush, and a whisper,
Nods concluding in my sphere, fingers suffocating my throat,
And an engine of a car starting into the night,
Yeah, that’s what I recall.
But, you see, I must be hysterical.
I must be insane to be afraid.
After all, laws have been set, men straightened.
It happens only in such and such places,
There’s no way it would be me.
“We live in a first-world country,
So you don’t have to worry.
Do you think I would ever do that to you?”
But I swear, if you could, you would.
Have you ever feared for your life, when going home alone?
Each step, cowering at the slightest movement,
Hands gripped tightly around keys,
Muscles tensed and eyes alert.
Is safety too much to ask for?
Have you ever feared for your life, when walking down the streets?
Each “casual” compliment, each belittling look,
A gaze that strips you down to your animalistic value,
A sex fantasy, a reproductive organ,
Just a non-durable good.
Just waiting to be consumed.
A laugh, a hush, and a whisper,
A small smile, imbued politeness,
A “suggestive” movement,
A “provocative” action,
…is existing too much to ask for?
