Monday Mornings in Monaco
written by: Kimber-Lee Basson
Yesterday I was photographed in the Belgian Congo.
Today is Monday, we are amidst the white-washed villages.
“We are in Monaco!” — a perfect sunset postcard for mom.
Vanilla, an alluring fragrance designed
to exalt a harmed body.
A weakened body.
A body.
Nuxe oil, a bestseller pride.
Could not smooth over the scars I hide.
The masterpiece is the mind.
The femme body is brave.
The pussy roars valor in all the adjectives of the Bible.
My face is the shield of yet just another poet.
“My body is not in vain for your pleasure Sir.”
This is a battlefield, this yacht.
A stage for poetic supremacy and
the domination of the ovaries.
In these places, these thieves have
sexualized me, us.
Slithered me down, us;
I see one by one gasping for comfort.
Their eyes in rage and despair,
pleading for solace.
The Python princess,
creating a new program between her legs and hippocampus,
there they are, desperate to slither.
I am coiled against the turquoise leather.
The breathing down my neck, hairline is shallow.
The loudest silence, now lodged in memory.
A regular Monday morning
in the poetic air
of Monaco.
- Monday Mornings in Monaco - September 30, 2024
- A Poem to My Peter - September 2, 2023
