They never thought we’d walk again,

never dreamed that under their oppressive gauze
we would wriggle our mangled toes
in defiance.
Rising up, we left our attics and our asylums–
a lurching monster, dragging toes and breasts,
limping and scraped from the Fall.
On our backs we carried our whalebone crosses.
They tried to stop us.
They sent us away to bleed,
sent us away to birth,
afraid of the rich vulva and all her secrets.
But somewhere in a whorehouse,
after the last fucking,
dormant Eve awoke
and went in search of fruit.