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You probably know of me

But you don’t know me


I’m the lion waiting in the den

The mystical life force that beckons forth,

A line of salamanders and amphibians

All morphed together to form me


Your queen


Truth is I existed only as plot,

An evil necessary,

If females were not needed for reproduction,

Would you see me in the Bible?


Would you see any women in the Bible?


Misogyny is the oldest sin


Black as water,

Feed my soul


My toes touch the edge of a pool,

Tepid


My form is long and naked,

But I don’t know that yet,

And neither do you


They say we are all born naked,

As if we don’t live every day in the same bare skin


We are just better at hiding it with age


I stretch my arms to the moon and sun,

One in the same,

A songbird makes calls about my hair,

They want to weave it into their nest


I’ve been told why and how I came to be here,

As if it were logically so


A body as naked as mine,

Lonely,

A crack of the rib,

Rib

Why the rib? Why not the mind, the heart, the calf?


So came I to be


Yet I am not made of him,

I am made of me,

That was all my story needed to be


I do not want to be known as the madam from Adam

I want to be known as the cunt that will be blunt


I am no more yours than I am his

I am mine


I owe no one my existence, apologies, groveling, or sex

I am mine from the ground up and inwards

Mine


The snake didn’t tempt me with fruit,

I decided I was hungry and looked upon what I could eat,

So this tree was special,

So am I


I do not have time for your made-up rules or your tests of faith

I ate because I was hungry

Hungry for knowledge, inspiration, and blood

You weep at the sight of me in my stoic stance and paint me black with your fears

I want the blood that gives life and takes it away

You can’t stand that I harness this power


You may call me a witch

A bitch


I am the bitch that called forth the moon and walked on the water

I am the bitch that cried wolf at the sight of rain

I am the bitch that tied her yearning to the stars and drank heavily


You may call me a bitch,

But I am not yours

Ann Herrold is a genderqueer writer that has a BA degree in philosophy (focusing on ethics) and a minor in anthropology from the University of Wyoming. They have published several original poems as well...