They had a sound basis of union. Margot was too beautiful for Macomber to divorce her and Macomber had too much money for Margot ever to leave him.
— Hemingway, “The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber”
Teacups rattle in their saucers as they are suspended by my wrists, the window is open, and Jean Seberg says (like the repetition of every inane American woman), ‘I don’t know if I’m unhappy because I’m not free, or if I’m not free because I’m unhappy.’
— tea
David Bellemere (F/lthyGorgeousTh/ngs)
The very first time I really loved sex
was the very first time I was happy to be a girl.
And also, found out there were two hearts in a human body.
I stared down at my smooth stomach, its separate pounding
crawling out my bellybutton like a bulldozer.
I thought perhaps I was a cow,
but with multiple hearts instead of stomachs.
(What a pleasure to have a dual dwelling
of mysterious punctuated pulses!)
This sort of thing shouldn’t be allowed in the anatomy
of a fifteen year old, or rather it should be captured.
Laying on a cream-colored bedspread overlooking
the plaza, I felt I had swallowed a live bird whole.
It did not give me wings, it laid me flat out for weeks.
I couldn’t talk on the phone without shivers,
and when I smiled, I dripped bird’s blood from my gums.
We are not speaking of love,
I birthed myself into an animal being.
- from “Fifteen Balls of Feathers” by Ada Limon
