I should be Queen
I should step on your heads like pretty blown eggs

I should be sacred
I should sway through the streets with my udder of sour milk

I should be wayward
I should cackle and schizz like a dirty pig’s snort

I should be lightning
I should pin the Furies to my shameless smile

I should be cat
I should curl like a comma, pause on a pillow edged with golden brocade

I should be silk
I should swish through gender til my cock grows long

I should be grass
I should wave my hands high on the hill of my pubis

I should be glitter
I should transmute my panties into bright green excess

I should be man
I should lick the kiss of your sphincter

I should be tender
I should swing low the sleeping child

I should be orifice
I should ant my hubris til its hollow

I should be failure
I should cavort with the muck-rot like a heaving monster

I should be sticking point
I should screw my courage to the fate of the world

I should be King
I should plant my sceptre in The Great Fuck You