on february 11th, 2021, ten days after my birthday, i went to my gynecologist for a biopsy of my vulva. months later i wrote this poem among many others about vulvas and about goats. i am learning to lean into my obsessions even if i don't understand them.
hanging from a clothespin
empty of blood
my brown bioped
vulva dangles
like a deskinned horned
goat in the butcher
shop window
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