By Emily Mary
Artwork by Shelly Embree
(A poem for those with a clitoris, and even those without)
Noun. One who criticizes, judges, or gives advice outside the area of his or her expertise.
It’s cl-IT-oris, you correct.
But you don’t have one.
And mine is blooming.
If my clitoris could speak,
It would tell you:
Fuck off,
Ultracrepidarian.
Because (maybe) it wants
To be called divine
Instead of some anatomical bullshit.
My clit-OR-is cannot be tamed.
It doesn’t speak,
It sings.
We are one.
We are femininity.
My clit-or-US will not be submissive.
We don’t speak,
We sing.
