Corinna Schulenburg
Bathrooms, Laws
my body the problem
threatens the bathroom
the chromosomal whiff
of the girl constructed
induces panic, requires
a clarity called violence
that blooms in red petals
like a thin whine
only perceptible
to the girl constructed
the world of sudden
falls reminds her
be quick about it before
the ground grows slick
or the mirror
that shows us ladies
what needs weeding will
turn wide-mouthed Alice
and swallow whole
the girl constructed
and leave no trace
as the laws require
the laws require
my body the problem
to solve itself
to scrub hands until
bone shines through
but like a proper gay
I crime, and exit
unsolved, unseen,
a get-away clean
September 13
The girl has been opened.
Her blood curls
its little ribbons down her legs which meet
in a bloom of wound.
Look closely, see? Her petals
have been professionally assembled,
such craftsmanship, it must last
as long as a life does.
The stone has been cast off the cave
and who knows what saviors may emerge,
stumbling into the white light.
She will widen into prophecy now
for 30 minutes three times a day,
orders, doctors, oracle.
She will deepen until the tunnel reaches
the molten core, she will fester
as a bog, as a fallow thing turned over
and over until it yields.
She will be a long time mending.
She has never been so happy.
Bio
Corinna Schulenburg (she/her) is an artist and activist committed to ensemble practice and social justice. She’s a white queer transgender woman, a mother, a playwright, a poet, a Creative Partner of Flux Theatre Ensemble, and the director of communications at Theatre Communications Group. Corinna has worked on over forty plays in New York City and across the country. She has poems published or upcoming in 86 Logic, Arachne Press, Canned, Capsule Stories, Coffee People Zine, Eclectica Magazine, Lost Pilots, Long Con, LUPERCALIA Press, miniskirt magazine, Moss Puppy, Oroboro, Pastel Pastoral, The Westchester Review, and Zoetic Press. https://corinnaschulenburg.com/