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

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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