Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet,
performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal
about town, feminist, freewheeler, and
friend. One day, she is going to be an
ideas curator. Which basically
means, she will tell you
exactly what she thinks.
Until then, you’ll have
to read between
the lines.
Don’t talk to me in any place except for euphemism
we’ve been in love with this sense of certainty for too long
turn me out of the warm bed like a mistreated non-citizen
point the finger at me like moral contaminant
I’m as virginal as bombing for peace
please beat my meat to a bloody pulp
let’s only ever be metaphors
from one thing turning into another
always violent and smug
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Brilliant