Emma Hair

BEHIND EVERY IRRATIONAL WOMAN

IS THE MAN WHO DROVE HER MAD

I understand now the screams

of jilted women, how they hurl pain

at their man (who’s no longer

their

man) to make them hear

all the words held

under bitten tongues

and swallowed like

bile, bitter pills

intended to maintain

equilibrium, but

equilibrium downshifts into stasis—

sluggish        stagnant           stasis

and the blood stops moving

until your feet are blocks of ice—your spirit,

a sunken stone

attached to your waist and tossed overboard

down

down

down

until nothing’s above

water except the tip

of your nose.

At first you keep your eyes open

but the warped kaleidoscope

view turns your stomach.

You stop struggling to cut the rope,

you grow accustomed to stasis—

silent and impassive as a Man o’ war

it glides in and becomes your new baseline

you grow so accustomed you don’t even feel

the warning stings:

get out

of the water, they say.

 

The women who scream

scream             for all of us,

for all of the voices lost—

to the bubbles.

hair.jpg

 THE CAROUSEL

Scroll   

Scroll

Scroll

Scroll

Scroll [your life away]

Scroll

through the

accomplishments

of others, drown

in them.

Buy these socks made

from natural deodorant

with sixteen thousand grams

of whey protein.

A bank tweets

about avocado toast,

you need

to lose

weight

stop eating

cheese and honey and

get your master’s degree

another degree

any degree

stop washing

your hair

use this oil

on your

face

pubes

head

body

cuticles

eyelashes

fill a swimming pool

and become a painting

another girl

from your school

is engaged / married / pregnant / travelling /

another victim

of a pyramid scheme

everyone’s publishing books

and winning

awards and

you’re swiping

at this faulty ATM

like it dispenses

McArthurs instead of envy

flipping through tarot cards

without stopping

long enough to construct meaning

everything blurred into

Death / Judgement / The Fool

Swiping

Swiping

Swiping

Take in all the information that exists, never stopping, don’t stop, you can’t

stop

what would happen

if you

[ S P A C E ]

everything about me seemed monstrous

 

incapable of being         

 

[ ]

 

contained

 

by anyone,

 

[ ]

 

too vast and disconnect-

 

ed—confusing,             

 

a m o r p h o u s,

 

[ ]

 

but cupped in your hands

 

my breasts were soft,

 

supported. In your hands

 

[ ]

 

my body was not this

 

unknowable force

 

[ ]

 

but a secluded beach.

 

cupped in your hands

 

[ ]

 

my overflowing words were drunk

 

like crystal water from a mountain stream.

 

[ ]

 

even the depression

 

eating me alive

 

which I feared

 

was a disease you could catch

 

even that you handled

 

[ ]

 

with more love than I could return.

 

what else can I do but worship

 

[ those hands     

 

that heart ]

 

which never once asked me to shrink.

 

[ ]

 

that heart which manages to fit the whole world

 

[ ]

 

and still has infinite space

 

[ for all of me ]

 

Emma Hair is a writer and editor from North Texas. Her work has previously appeared in Together & Apart (Square Wheel Press, 2020) and Ellipsis Zine (#7); and received second prize in the UCL Publishers’ Prize 2019. You can find her on IG @em.hair or on Twitter @emhair

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