Experiencing Of Montreal

Fully clothed in yourself
take off the layers that you worked to
wear in secret — freedom is wild

Written by: Flose Boursiquot

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I am “Giant Woman”

I caress women’s hearts
when their lips bleed
insecurities down to
their beautiful feet.

I write post-it messages
to myself and post them
up against the mirror
to caress my own heart.

I can only see the beauty
in me when it speaks
through dirty handwriting
next to puffy eyelids.

The woman who breathes
life reminds me that we
are queens, more than the
mid-twenties rolls & late night shame.

The young woman who models
beauty for a penny too fat
to slide into my pocket
gifts me a book; she understands.

The man on the radio
is close to my heart but
far from anything i’ll ever know…
he tells me of Alice, she’s always there.

Understanding works that way. 

Written by: Flose Boursiquot

Inspirations:
-Lily Myers, Shrinking Women
-Nahko, Alice (My Name Is Bear)

Brain Blow

As I sit on the floor with tears at my feet, I pluck.
I want to unroot every loaded term I’ve ever heard from the matted dirt in my brain, especially the ones that hurt.
When my hands face my eyes, the prickles I’ve removed from my synapses lie cold in my palm.

Nigger— it no longer whips my bones and hangs my blood dry.
Bitch— my vagina remains unsettled.
Crazy— the anxiety traveling through my body doesn’t run and hide under blankets of shame for hours passed the legal eight.
Loud— my big, beautiful lips don’t chafe and blister with anger.
Unreligious— every cell in my body does it’s own unique dance without fear of awakening the angels; freedom.

I am now plucking faster, yanking at every root until there’s nothing left but bald. When I have achieved this, I look at myself in the mirror.

Wow, you. Here you are so untouched.

Then I step aside and watch the whole thing explode into something beautiful, so full of light and love. I inch closer, pick up the pieces and swallow each one like bits of alfalfa sprout.

Grow in my belly, grow so strong until society is no longer your trigger. 

 

Written by: Flose Boursiquot, July 6th

Something edgy

Are you sure?
Yes.
So he begins.
Slim caramel fingers extending from a tattooed left arm.

I breathe, I’m sure.
The buzz of the razor is calming.
He starts from the back and soon the floor is covered with black and gray curls.

I breathe, I’m sure.
There’s an intimate dance the barber does as he stops to check with me.
I smile and hold the top in place.
He continues.

I breathe, I’m sure.
Two friends sent me about a dozen images for inspiration.
He’s managed to make this cut my own.
The more he takes off, the more I fall in love with my face.

I breathe, I’m sure.
I haven’t seen you in awhile my smile says to the nakedness in the mirror.
There’s something freeing about us meeting like this says the nakedness.

I breathe, I’m sure.
The barber finishes and leads me to the sink.
As he begins to wash my hair Ed Sheeran comes on.
Thinking out loud.
What an intimate dance we’re doing, the Barber and me, much like my mother and I did for many years.

I breathe, I’m sure.
Haircut 4

Written by: Flose Boursiquot 
June 13, 2017