top of page
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/dc9427_4f405459dba94e4787c6dbd02d98af2e~mv2_d_2448_3264_s_4_2.jpg/v1/fill/w_38,h_50,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,blur_2,enc_auto/dc9427_4f405459dba94e4787c6dbd02d98af2e~mv2_d_2448_3264_s_4_2.jpg)
Teaching Politicians Empty Heat
poetry by Ashleigh Taylor
Teaching Politicians Empty Heat
When she says, “Fuck Donald Trump,”
i imagine consent, peeling away layers,
sweaty
excuse for formality, one
after another
rubbing up against his
supposed glory, his dick
dangling sadly
i would grab him by his
man-pussy, his
weak excuse for phallic
structure, defective vibrator.
i will make his dick swell so
that it breaks his idea of women
as
table lamps or chairs or
useless.
so that he sees my power.
I will teach him what it is to really
admire the warmth and presence of a
body, to fuck
senselessly, carnally, and then
i will tear away the pretense, the
longing, stealing his power.
it would be cathartic like
shaving death off yourself.
cathartic like dying before i can repeat my mistakes.
bottom of page