​​“A woman in the shape of a monster” (1) by Tara Hollander (Washington)

“A hunger that food cannot fill” (2)
I.
A man cuts through her periphery
He cuts through the music,
Cutting through the soft, short hair
                            By her ear and
Removing her earbud,
Cutting through her time
                            And her thought
And her peace as they’re about to take off

Then he swipes through photos
                            His knee still inched into the side of her thigh
He cuts through the air with a cough
That interrupts the uncaptivating nature of his story
                            Swiped right
She found herself, not repulsed by the strawberry pink
Folds or the soft smatter of wiry curls
But rather
The way his oily pointer finger
                            ​Cut through both.

II.

What would I have to say if his hands
Were bound like my paralyzed viens, what if
His small body, finally contained to the size of an airplane seat,
Legs bound in opposition of his manspread,
Were prepared before me
Like a cranberried turkey

What might my monster say
Who might I be as the protagonist of this story
Protagonist of the world                             of my own life

You don’t need to look up the difference
Between sexual assualt and harrassment
To feel.

What do I do with this anger inside of me,
This person I’ve become who the man cut through?

I am standing on knowledge of the goddess
​                            And access to the female monster

I am almost a million pieces.
I am just about one with the detritus.
I am the smoke of deep sea vents,
             I summon creatures with my breath,
I am ready for new life.

(1) Planetarium, Adrienne Rich
(2) Feminine Mystique, Betty Friedan



Tara is a queer feminist poet. She is originally from Lynden, WA, and is currently obtaining a bachelor’s in English and Biology from Gonzaga University. Tara loves writing and learning about the world around her through an intersectional lens.