Where Women Are Incapable Of Synesthesia Poem by Darlan M Cunha

*

To this day in many places in the world
the woman-artist is looked upon with leeway
(I remember here a book: Background Animal)
regarded as a beast to be always
in someone's armpit
its owner, from May to May
where there are countries, religions, sects
political regimes under which women
not worth a goat, a sheep.

Therefore, in this miserable moral realm
there are no women artists by the way.

Therefore, in this miserable moral world...
there are no female artists, by the way, there are, but
cannot give birth from a palette
or some ropes, or the silhouettes
that clay and wood can give, and so
death is eating away at all of these creatures
living alone with themselves
while the males
living alone with themselves while the males,
to possess them sexually by force,
live among each other in gurgles -

and they don't even scream and shout anymore, they die quietly.