Power in speaking

You speak, I speak
and then we hear.
As we wonder separately,
Feigning we are freer.

The line crackles,
my arm stiffens,
as I walk down these streets.

Locate me in the here,
I am stood where we were once to be so near.
Sirens bleed by me,
Reminding me that you are sat in your tranquility.

You speak, I speak
You quieten.
I speak, You speak,
I am stifled.

Are either of us listened?


Will either of us listen?


I’ve been dealing with issues of power and access pretty much all day today. As I will for much of this coming year as my MA in Gender Studies progresses.. My thoughts are still fragmented at best and unformulated naive notions at worst. I’m aware I should paint something or draw but equally my eyes are drooping and my heard a buzzing nest of white noise. So here’s a quick stanza, I hope you found it eleganza!

Apologies for the stilted poetry and the hedging. But hope some parts or forms of it resonate someplace, whether is sound or ideals.


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