Run, Heart, Run - Efemia Chela

I exercise this muscle in my chest
with bad love, fake affection.
Run it through a gamut of men, women
real or not.
willing or not.
My vulva weeps, at the thought of you
your pistachio pussy, pried open —
rosey, tinged olive, rich.
Our bones roll over each other;
click, clap applause.
Thick-necked men break my heart,
bend my shoulders
for karmic revenge.
I wake up alone,
crowd of spectres
streaming out the hot kettle.
The sink cradles
an unknown razor
and I sing of it without words.

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Efemia Chela (born 1991) Zambia
Source: Brittle Paper