28 Nov Butter, By Sophie De Frietas
When water melts would it smell like wax
Unlikely: Butter. The oil that won’t come off
I do not see the birds, only their feet, and even then, only the ones missing talons
I’ve been pulling my hair out since I was little, letting it fall from my fingers, and at this rate the
strands are all over the world, DNA stamps on a map
I don’t have eyelashes, haven’t for a year. I can’t wait to wear mascara again.
The male gaze: I can’t wait to wear mascara again
The female gaze: I don’t have eyelashes, haven’t for a year
this crying is tragically beautiful
this crying is pathetic unless I have the mascara smears to prove it
What do I know about pain, what do you? Can either of us spell napalm?
One of those gold bracelets, the cheap ones that stain green. I’ll give it to you if you like, in
exchange for straight teeth (all my molars are glass; they shatter in the winter, or at the opera)
I am exactly like other girls, except for my hair and my skin and my face and my voice and my
bones
I am exactly like other girls, keys in fist and bath knees
If I undressed like you wanted me to, I’d never get this dress off
The male versus the female gaze is a pyramid scheme
It’s Fidel Castrol and I again. He smokes a cigar, I put it out on my tongue
it’s hot
(it’s hot, for who?)
Before I tan, my skin dapples, lucky me
Before I cry my eyes lighten, lucky me
The male gaze: An oil spill
The female gaze: Butter. The oil that won’t come off
And if I undressed like you wanted me to I’d take my skin off, hand you my womb
You can have it, keep it, I don’t mind. Just leave the glass molars in my mouth
I’ll keep my hair and my skin and my face and my voice and my bones
And everything else that makes me a female with a gaze, but not the female gaze because I put
that out on my tongue, remember?
Are you even watching?