Escapee
I have a vagina
But I am not a sheath.
And I haven’t a virgin wreath.
I will not be confined
By my sex,
By the blind.
My passion and desire
Lick me inside like fire.
I have a six-pack.
Peel off each flimsy layer
Of pearls, skirts, and perfect hair.
I can hold my own
in the mud and dirt.
Away from the general jailers
My tongue is as good as a sailor’s.
I decorate this flesh
like a tree on Christmas.
Each scene is a sculpture
to bury my love and power.
I live as an escapee
In the fringes of the screen.
But I don’t run to flee
I run to be seen.
This poem is about:
Me