maddi rowe
queer shame festival
When I am 10 / I make the girls kiss and hold hands / and then I hear footsteps down the hall and I exit out of Sims 1 so fast like lightning / like confetti / like circuitry / the PC spits out the scratched-up disc / I have lost my progress and I have to rebuild / my girl Sims are only best friends / when we are 16 / I kiss her and her cheeks are pink and warm / rosebud //
I BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY MORE THAN I BELIEVE IN JESUS
I FOUND GOD AT THE BOTTOM OF A PACKET OF SALT AND VINEGAR CHIPS.
MY LIPS CHAP AND I KEEP EATING THEM ANYWAY
BECAUSE I HAVE FOUND GOD
AND I’M QUITE LIKING WHAT HE HAS TO SAY
I FOUND GOD IN A SATISFYER PRO
WITH THE SECOND HIGHEST AIR PULSE SETTING ON.
MY STOMACH CRAMPS BUT I KEEP GOING BECAUSE
I QUITE LIKE WHAT GOD’S FINGERS FEEL LIKE
GOD DOES NOT DISAPPOINT ME
HE MAKES ME CLUTCH THE PILLOW AND
HOLD MY BREATH.
I FOUND GOD IN A MAN WHO STOPPED FOREPLAY
COZ HE THOUGHT HE MIGHT RIP ME APART
AND I SPENT APPROXIMATELY
THREE LIFETIMES TRYING TO
PIECE
MYSELF
TOGETHER
WHEN HE CLOSED MY BEDROOM DOOR
BEHIND HIM.
BUT WHEN HE ENTERED ME
I FELT
NOTHING
IT WAS BUILD-UPS AS.
I FOUND GOD IN THE SEA BRINE OF THE WELLINGTON HARBOUR
AND I RODE AN E-SCOOTER TO LEAVE BEHIND
THE
GENESIS
OF MY NEW
BAD BITCH-ERY
IN THE WHIPLASH
OF HEARTBREAK.
YOU USE YOUR BREATH TO WARM THEM
LIKE FINGERS BLOOD-RUSHED FROM MORNING FROST
THEY USE IT INSTEAD TO BLOW UP BIG BALLOONS AND SQUEEZE THEM BETWEEN THEIR FINGERS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU UNTIL THEY
POP.
I FOUND GOD IN A MEGAN THEE STALLION SONG,
THE PART THAT SAYS
‘GET YOUR BOOTS AND YOUR COAT FOR THIS WET-ASS PUSSY’
BECAUSE IT IMPLIES A MAN WOULD GO OUT INTO THE SNOW
JUST FOR A CHANCE TO FUCK
AND I LIKE TO IMAGINE THE MAN GETTING HIS BOOTS AND COAT AND THEN SHAVES AND EATS A SODIUM-RICH SNACK FOR ALL THE FUCKING
AND THEN FREEZES TO DEATH
AT THE BUS STOP
STILL ERECT.
Maddi Rowe is a writer and agent of chaos. She’s twenty and lives as a Carrie Bradshaw wannabe in Te Whanganui-ā-Tara.