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On I Am Not Writing/You Are Unrighting Our Bodies

Poetry Nov 11, 2022

by Emily Bowles

Epistolarity betrays me—the mailbag upturned,
Behn’s loveletters, Gildon’s cruel parroting, and
an awkward break

dance sleep
sleep dance

hauntings of a Crooked Mind:

I have learned a lesson, my lessening

A crooked body is a crooked mind
A crooked body begets a crooked mind
A crooked body doesn’t mind


I make the Happiness I cannot find.

And men, all Men

all Men want is
to make fictions of me
to make out
                            fictions of me
to make Your fictions of me

all [I] want is
to give birth to Bunnies,
to Mary Toft my womb exturning,
to Mary my womb wonder woman—a story running
away with Me.