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a poem by Roberta Chloe Verdant


I'll be the sort of grrl who wears boxing gloves to church. I'll be the sort of grrl who
sticks her middle finger up, yells 'fuck you' every time she hears misogyny (which, let's
face it, is often) & maybe spits a little. I'll be red lipstick, fangs in the mouth, the most
unapologetically noisy orgasms, sex magick secrets, blood magick monthly. I'll watch
like an owl; people's mothers won't like me. I'll take to mentioning my fetishes on first
dates, rip my fishnets on purpose. I'll grow my toe-nails long, call 'em talons. I'll re-take
up smoking Menthol Slims, but only after midnight. I'll blow smoke-rings in the face of
Tories. I'll leave everyone guessing, refuse answers. I'll burp so loud that buildings
shake. I'll smash plates & glasses, won't explain my bruises. I'll have sky-dive Sundays,
rave on Tuesdays, get pilled up in lunch-breaks. I'll grow my pit hair long, leave it
sweaty, drip a little. I'll smile less, quirk an eyebrow more. I'll eat raw chiles, wash 'em
down with lemons. I'll be disgusting. Oh yeah, I'll be disgusting.

© by Roberta Chloe Verdant

Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #30 ~ April 2014