C+nto: & Othered Poems

by Joelle Taylor

but if you are a Stone you are a chip off the mountain and you join an avalanche of wrong-walking women shaven heads like tumbling rocks you keep them close they are rosary

you are a trespasser in your own body the landowners are men who pass you in the street.

but the boi dreams. thinks, maybe this time something will be born. thinks, if I had a baby, I would call it Flinch.

women fight like we are climbing out of holes

& now a reckoning. the great grief of a generation a rainbow flag thrown over a coffin.