46/365: The Common Process of Genital Scrying

I was to close up, because:
emotions were manipulative,
ambition would crowd out males,
volume was unbecoming.
I was to be a pretty thing
until others were hungry
or in need of tidying
or there were children to be made.

I learned to lie.
I grew a covert second self
who plotted deaths in well-ordered lists.
I wrote genderless pornography.
I invented a god who lived in the schoolyard floodlight.
I lifted weights until my sleeves split.
I sat with my legs wide like Lydia's imagined sluts.
I hid up in trees.

We were
free and unknown,
my self and I,
solitary and forsaken,
miserable and perverse,
lost in a reactionary bout with perversity,
the common process of genital scrying.

I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.