what if I’ve said to him
all that could ever be interestingly said

and for how long can I keep
loving him without seeing his face
or him biting my breasts

what if things in this world were really
all about sex except sex
which is about power
like Foucault said

then how far is it really
from a human
to a horse

and how ugly horses justify
their own ugliness?

how preference justifies preference
towards pretty faces?

I must go on and do my breast
eggs and chicken
chicken and eggs
my breast must go on and do me
and ends me with

I don’t have a body
that rules and ridicules and rears

I don’t have a bone
that structures and stares and spits

I don’t have a face
that smiles and speaks and stops


I don’t have a period


CHANG WEN studied Comparative Literature at NYU. She writes poems and enjoys traveling to no man’s land. Her work has appeared in With Painted Words and elsewhere. She is currently in Shanghai working on a poetry-play hybrid centered on wine, over-consumerism and psychotics.