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Poem: This is my gun

In the playground,
I learnt how to make a gun
with two fingers:
Bang! Shoot ‘em dead,
running round like any other boy
like a boy



I was blooded; boyhood shifted,
left me behind. Just
a girl, they thought
in boys’ trousers
-not boys’, mine!-
just a girl



I made a great fuck
Loved men with my body
This woman’s body
-not woman’s, mine!-
Side-by-side compared:
still no man



I may not have a rifle
But these two fingers
Still make a gun
Try telling me otherwise
When they’re in-
And I beckon-


About Big Rook

Chess coaching and events in the north-west of England

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