GOD, his tasks

December 15, 2019

Please, let’s reconsider
God’s expectations of pleasure.
How we are lepers
in our colony of want.
How we would murder
our child in exchange
for our own small death.
A drop of iodine in a bath
becomes a gauzed elegy
for how we can’t help but love
who we want to save.
In a train station I am wife
to hundreds of men
who have feelings
about their bodies.
God wanted pleasure
to be a dead clam
that doesn’t open
in boiling water.
A slick body that hides
itself between the hinges
of duty and need
until it wastes away as a wrinkle
on the stretched skin
of a life.
Once we were so wet
we glistened
whether there was light
or not.
When God called
our bodies territory
we became terror,
we became the story
that every child
in their monstered
sleeplessness never wants
to be real.

Meghan Privitello

our truths

December 15, 2019

Within us is the potential to be fleshed out again as the creature we once were. Within us are the bones to change ourselves and our world. Within us is the breath and our truths and our longings — together they are the song, the creation hymn we have been yearning to sing.

Clarissa Pinkola Estés
Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype

I wonder how many young men fantasised about falling into the clutches of the QUEEN OF PAIN?


Tortured slave of the WHIP GODDESS! This, surely, the stuff of masturbatory daydreams for lots of boys, years ago.

Yes, Malcolm Bradbury’s first novel published 1959

Okay so there was a TSA (Transportation Security Administration) butch older trainer lady and a nervous younger cis-gender lady trainee. Already I thought this was hilarious. But when I came through the arms-up circle scan, they looked at each other and pulled me aside. The butch one pointed to the scan and said See? She has a buttock anomaly. The straight trainee is horrified. Me, though? I’m delighted. Wait, I have a buttock anomaly?! I ask, cheerfully. I’ve never been happier. I’m peaking, right now.

They confer, determine I should STFU and listen. The trainer is going to train the trainee on how to pat me down. What she should say, which parts of me need patting. The trainer tells a story about a lady who thought anomaly was a diagnosis. Like, the x-ray machine was some Obama-care update and she just heard she had cancer. It took a long time to calm her down.

You wear pants under your dress, the trainer accuses. It’s true. There are pants under my dress. She walks the trainee through patting me down while I pull my dress up so she can pat my ass. It’s okay though because pants.

The trainee points to my hair so I take my hair down while she barks YOU DON’T HAVE TO TAKE IT ALL THE WAY DOWN. Okay. There isn’t really half-way with my hair, though. So, too late, but that’s cool.

Trainee and I think we are done, but Trainer says, whenever you have a buttock anomaly, you need to pat down the thighs. So Trainee went for it. Without clarifying whether her palms or backs of her hands were the deal here. She just ran her palms up my thighs, getting right up there into my vulva, up till she ran out of thigh, jiggling a little, just to make sure.

Jill McDonough