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Nashwah Azam

fury: a poem



The spark of fury, in a boy

Swells like desert heat on the back of the legs

Poignant, a venomous vaper

Spreading in their lungs, igniting fear

But a girl


A girl shrivels her anger


Starve it into submission, complacency

She is supposed to be grown

Before childhood

Before womanhood


Women don't feel anger

Those that do

Harpies, furies

Smudged lips that tumble the honeyed words of vengeance

That chant and scream and burn their things

Those aren't Women -

Angry Women

Monsters


Angry Women are split down the middle


A girl’s childhood finishes

When lumps start grow on her chest

When suddenly

Gazes tighten

Male, female

Like shriveled bones wrapped around the brain


Cover YOUR legs

Your parents shout,

Now be shamefaced

Around male members of the family

You've played with before.

You're now a burden,

An embarrassment


Hide

Be careful

They're coming


You're to blame

If

Those wolves pour out

Suddenly becoming clear

Far

From the fog of childhood

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