Vagina poem (I think) by spoken word poet Franny Choi. What are a vag’s ghost stories? What a poet.
BY FRANNY CHOI
Other-lips whispering between my legs.
What they called black hole not-thing
is really packed full of secrets. A rebel mouth
testifying from the underside. Careful
not to let it speak too loudly. Only hum
demure in polite company—never laugh
or spit on the sidewalk or complain
lest we both be dragged under the wheels of
one of those. Or worse coddled
smiled at as at a lapdog acting wolf.
Or worse called ugly a cruel joke. Or—
there are always worse things.
Too many messengers shot. But then
who wouldn’t fear an eyeless face
whose ghost stories always come true?