Stilettos by Evanescist

Even in this world my weapon of 

choice is my femininity. My entire 

life I have been dancing on the 

surface of the patriarchy’s double-

edged blade. To this match I will 

show up as the fabric of my prom

dress, layered tulle bunching up 

At my ankles. Still vulnerable, still 

soft. On this altar I will pierce 

myself and die for this cause. I’m 

charting a course for myself by 

puncturing the night sky, stars

lighting a way forward. This is 

going to be beautiful. This is going 

to be me braiding the hair of the 

girl whose world has always been 

halved by another’s arrogance. No 

knight in shining armor will come 

to save me. Just myself, at nineteen, 

all smudged eyeliner and plaid skirt 

still winking flirtatiously over my 

shoulder at the future I want for myself. 

I’ll fight this fight with my knuckles 

bare and bloodied. For something I 

have been doing my entire life, wrestling 

need not be violent. It must only be 

a woman. 

Evanescist is an evanescent poet, in that she writes only in fleeting moments of inspiration, for the love of the game.


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