New Poem: Crossing My Legs


Because apparently people just cannot fathom I might need to pee.

Crossing My Legs

The movie is over
and I get in line
way in the back
so I am not seen

Then I am there
at the doors
with the signs
the stick figure with a dress
and the one without

I know where I belong
but you do not
so I cross my legs
and I hold it

I hold your hatred
of anything not you
I hold your self righteousness
born of half baked theology
I hold your insecurities
your unwillingness to ask yourself
I hold your fear
of something so old but so new

The pressure builds
and pushes
and feels like
armchair diagnoses from talk show hosts
like accusations of impropriety
like being a fetish for men ashamed of themselves
like hundreds of my sisters murdered just for being

It builds until I can hold it no longer
biting my lip
biting my anxiety
I let go
and it runs down my leg
and it smells like humiliation


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