“sonnet in pill form” & “delicacy” by Stephanie Ginese

sonnet in pill form

It is a Wednesday like any & there is overpriced coffee &
white women with perfectly practiced sad faces & 
nothing to be sad about. What I'm saying
is my ancestors are disappointed. There
is a button to my left that’s yelling my body, my business 
& now I am as steaming as the almond-oat-dandelion house 
mylk. I want the button to choke on its privilege. Its 
seven dollar latte. Like the women on the island that is 
much too small to consider choked on norethindrone grenades. 
On the smoke coming from cauterized innards. What I’m saying
is someone too poor & too fertile & too erased gave 
the body donning the button its right to business & choice. 
Then the steam simmers to a plant based sorrow when I think 
of how everything that promises freedom comes with a body count. 

delicacy

I didn't mean to paint us willing 
that is just how it sounds in english
let us be something other than colonizer porn
spicy mamis, hot guinea
pigs feet taste like a stewed freeing
give us shit & we will make a feast
survival means no part unused 

my mother’s legs are a topography 
of indigo rivers a new one appears
at the mouth of her body each time
she remembers that squealing taste
& the feeling of the citrine sun on her
skin I want to become something
other than what has been done to me
 
I once kissed a boy who thanked me for my history
& by kissed I mean fucked & 
by thank I mean apologized
said he was sorry for being a trigger
the color of pigs feet
I tell him my only form of birth control is the moon 
I was taught bodies are as effective as weapons
 
& still
no ones knows what happened back then 
but God & her ghosts
I tried to listen for their calling 
couldn’t hear anything over the fit of moans

Tags: stephanie ginese