Dating White Men, #2
by Maureen Bhutong Boyd
I don’t kiss using the same mouth I read poetry in, you said, and of course I immediately wondered about your use of prepositions, like why would your mouth read poetry in, as opposed to using your mouth to read poetry with, and I suppose I missed the point of your somewhat eroticized self-revelation, but I feel like there should be limitations on white men speaking like this because their mere presence can evacuate poetic resonance from otherwise beautiful language, and since white men have tried to colonize beauty forever I think it is only appropriate today for them to stay far, far away from poetic language and to limit themselves to clear-spoken, hyper-literal sentences with complete punctuation and no metaphors whatsoever.
Are you telling me I can’t write poetry?
I literally do not have the power to prevent you from writing poetry, unlike all of your forebears who definitely had the power to prevent everyone who was not like them from writing poetry, novels, newspaper articles, textbooks, the NYTimes crossword, legislation, college essays, prescriptions, billboards, soup can labels, product recalls, vacuum cleaner instructions, job ads, and more, so that if you really think about it, suggesting that you should voluntarily limit yourself to the unmetaphorical is not that much of a deprivation given the fact that the poetic is only one item in this myriad list of texts that people like you have had exclusive control over for forever in this country, starting with your arrival and your decision to slaughter people who did not write English or Spanish or Italian or French or Portuguese on paper, actually probably vellum because your forebears felt that writing things on paper, I mean vellum, in one of those languages was the only legitimate way to communicate things of grave importance, like instructions for drowning an accused witch to prove she wasn’t a witch or how to evaluate the price of another human being, so that I don’t really feel like it’s unreasonable to suggest that perhaps you should withdraw from one of these arenas of language and go find something else to do, like maybe plant a vegetable garden or crochet clothes or give free rides to people who really need these things. What do you think?
About the Author
Maureen Bhutong Boyd is a Thai-Scottish North American writer and uses the pronouns she and her. She holds an MFA in Fiction from Pacific University. Her stories appear in Bellingham Review, Joyland Magazine, and Buckman Journal. She read an excerpt from her unpublished novel for APAture, Kearny Street Workshop's Festival for Emerging Asian Pacific American Artists, and another excerpt was a finalist for Hidden River Art's William Van Wert Award for Fiction. She also wrote, memorized, and performed autobiographical work for "This is My Body,” a storytelling showcase for women of color. She resides in the Bay Area of California with her family. You can find her on Instagram or through her website.
