and that word 'cunt'
my knowing cut off from its roots
cunning, kenning, Kunti.
something more than 'contemptuous slang
for vagina or woman' : cunnus diaboli
devilish cunt
the church's name for caves and groves
sacred to the goddess.
slit, snatch, beaver, box, tail
vulgar for vulva, even your mother said Don't
touch yourself down there
female genitalia as mouth of hell,
fanged and castrating womb of death
vagina dentata that swallows men whole
my baby comes out of this mother of caves
streaming wet with blood, trailing his cord
and crying as he slips out smooth as water
my body the ground he is leaving
for home, helpless fish in thin air
mouth gasps open, line cut now
tug at my heart, pain eased
remember the sharpness of the knife
that cut the slit wide open
allowed his crowning
bone-hard head to push
through that cunt so quickly cut,
then closed with catgut
my cunning cunt gives up her magic
trick, her one life-giving stunt
and that word,
I claim it now,
as mine.
© 1995 Jennifer Boire.
Previously published in the Urban Wanderer's Reader, an Anthology,
Hochelaga Press, 1995
three young girls
skipping rope in the schoolyard
my big sister, she cut herself
on a piece of glass
she was bleeding down there
we try to imagine
a bandaid sticking to wet skin
no, impossible
you can't bleed
down there
© 2005 Jennifer Boire
There is blood that has to be seen
to remove the dirt feeling inside
the part that gets disgusted
touching or even smelling it.
There is blood
all over my night memories--
a ski trip by bus,
trapped in the lodge by sudden flood.
No Kotex in the washroom,
no one to tell this to,
underwear cast out in the garbage.
Can't tell my boyfriend, men
must be protected from the curse.
After a long trip home, crying
alone in a darkened high school
washroom, feeling cursed.
I need to re-vision
the blood
feel the blessing of eggs
washing away, lining cleansed
ready for new beginnings.
I need to see God as a woman
who bleeds.
© 2005 Jennifer Boire