Mod Womyn

By: Laura Sermeno (A 2nd year UCLA student)

Dastardly you grip onto me
and my infatuations with
men incomplete. Men so fragile
they hook onto my smiles
and fluttering flirtations.
I dare to reject you
and all of your manifestations.
But me in this silky sheer
shirt, leaves you breathless.
Panting and trembling let your
daze consume you. Or me?
Your gaze eats my face! My
face, in public, is on display.
As feminine bodies navigate
through worldly spaces: hair,
jewelry, maquillaje,
clothing drips off, strips
off, slips off. We’re
naked. Bare bodies burgeoned
by boyish biases. Sexy.
Sex, see? Sex, me?
Me. Me! My sex is mine and
You are not invited. Your
optical undressing of my sexiness
revolts me and I am holding
in my disgust. Respect that this excess of
sex suppresses, represses,
oppresses the visual mystery
and beauty of the human body.
What is this, man?
If you take, I cannot give.
When you rake, green cannot
Live!! Stay true to the
ghetto experience cus I live
this. Pride aside, where is
the love? We need a hand
for that ‘who is this man?’

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