Watch, Listen, Read A Woman is Reborn as a Yard of Red Silk - Jasmine Cooray A Woman is Reborn as a Yard of Red Silk After Anne Sexton If it’s right, what they sayand a woman like you is not a woman, then wear me, headwrap, coiled and twistedcover the head patchy like mange wear me, an apron, clean and starched,smoothed over the ghost of a womb pin me to your heart as a blousy rosetteforget that you once held a cold blue child drape me, delicate veil disguisingthe beard spreading like chickweed or a neck scarf, Hepburn - elegantnoose bruises wailing underneath. I’ll be a kaftan over the breastless sternumas the tumour glistens in its metal dish a ra-ra skirt wide enough to conceal that slick strap on, but when, one night, the breezebrings burned feathers and frankincense, and the wind whips the trees into a forest of dervishes and siren voices cut through the darkand you wake suddenly tear me in half, hold me up like a flagand howl, from your chest, from your belly,your feet planted in the dirt and rememberand remind meand remember and remind me I have been your kind I have been your kind. When you sleep once more,I’ll draw myself over your naked flesh like the fingertips of a lover shudder with pleasure my partial womanmy grieving woman my hairy lump of a womanmy beautiful disfigured womanhacked into by the worldmy fuckless unpretty womanmy gorgeous butch womanmy woman of razor wityour mind like an oceanyour laugh like rainfall I have been your kind I’ll run my silken edges between your legs and when ecstasy wakes you your eyes will be red flamesyour flesh, a totem, a light in the dark. Poem by Jasmine Cooray commissioned by Poet in the City, University of Liverpool and Loughborough University as part of Poets in Vogue.