To the author of yet another WMS164 reading proclaiming a film to be about Time, Space, (Hi)stories, and Geodetic Surveys of Feminine Space
what space is it you imagine
we live in,
enfolding feminine limb over feminine
flesh blood bone hair whimpering
into our fe(male) subjectivity
why
why are we now rewritten, divided,
cut up in
the eternally male lens
of their phallocentric camera?
or is it my
feminine
space
(defined here - bed, bathroom,
kitchen, hearth, the modest
bloody pouch of uterus)
given depth in the
cavities of your brain?
you get
too
esoteric for me; my space
is the point between hill
and horizon, the part
where earth rises when it
should
stay flat.
rather,
I cut your space
white into orange; highlighting
means I pay attention, when
I'd rather
be elsewhere.
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