Femen by Andrew Scotson

I am not a silent poet

Finger depresses the key,
send …
one…
two…
with a deep breath
three…
Facebook finds and
then reveals to a waiting
world, our young woman,
centre stage.

Reclined on leather,
scarlet lips, black eyeliner,
tanned skin, thin, half naked,
cigarette held in that
oh so disregarded French
actress pose,
in black Arabic letters
across her breathing
flesh:

“my body belongs to me,
it is not the source of
anyone’s honour”

Tunisia awakes,
eyes blinking as the message sparks,
Islamic men march,
stone her, lash her,
angry faces behind furious beards.

Screaming against freedom
as one girl reclaims
her birth right and body,
grasping back ownership
of a beating heart.

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