A Platonic Ode to Seeing Your Nipples Through That Mesh Shirt at the Club
By Bianca Ferrari
Hello Everyone! Hope you had a safe week and hopeful start to the month of November! I took a little editorial break last week, it’s been important to know when to do so. As I am writing this post, it is Monday, November 4th. By the time you’re reading this it will be Wednesday, November 6th. That means that between the writing and the reading, much can happen. To our American readers, that means that the US Elections will have happened, and they may or may not have declared a winner. I write this from a place of walking backwards into the future, I cannot see what is to come; regardless, I hope you continue to hope. Whatever the results, we must demand more. We must demand humanity. I am not from the US and I do not live there, I try to avoid propagating American-centric ideologies which often over inflate the grandiose importance of the US as a country, as a society, as a government, as a model. However, it would be naive and straight up ignorant of me, a person from the Global South, to pretend that whatever the outcome, the consequences will not be far reaching, beyond borders and beliefs. I hope to hope more and for longer. I hope we all continue fighting like hell.
Anyway, I figured we might want a breath of queer joy and light and awe and safety this week. We are so happy to be filing this poem by Bianca Ferrari under all those tabs in our trapper keeper! Cause regardless of what is to come, we must quote another iconic nipple poking out of a mesh top: “Maybe I don’t care about being polite, okay? Cause it’s a Wednesday (…) and I’m alive”. Sometimes that’s all you need, a reminder that you are indeed, in fact, still alive. Thank you so much Bianca!
***update: our thoughts are with our American friends and loved ones. While we knew liberation would not come this time, regardless of outcome, this is in fact a moment of foreseeable terrifying and horrific consequences; this is especially applicable to those in marginalized communities. Please resist the moment of despair. Please resist the urge to dwell in blame. Take a day to mourn all the systems which have failed you. And then, act. Make a safety plan, change your gender markers, know where your closest sanctuary cities are. Build communities for survival, protect one another, hold space and generosity. Create the necessary networks which will one day obliterate the gears of incessant and crushing imperialism. In Brazil we have a saying, ninguém solta a mão de ninguém, we are holding hands and no one can let go. PTK is a place of solidarity, we will hold on to your hand.
A Platonic Ode to Seeing Your Nipples Through That Mesh Shirt at the Club
I needed to see your nipples through that mesh shirt Far away from the corporate parties Where people dress too cool Even though We're all still here. I needed to see your nipples through that shirt Not because I wanted to touch them, Bite them - Although maybe I would - Not because I know you, Or even want to know you - Although maybe I might - But just because. Your forehead is covered in joyful beadwork Spun by a heart beating too much To fit the streets of this quaint city, A heartbeat I can only tune into When my eyes are… Down there And my body is squished In this polyedric whirlwind of queer lights - Which I needed - With these globes of chrome like shiny grapes Draping off the walls - Which I needed - With this secrete bookcase door of a garden of safety - Which I needed - With these headless Barbies And clocks on the ceiling And books upside down And asses on show And outfits well-planned and well-dreamed of - Which I needed - With my nostrils breathing in Your forhead's liquid pearls A whisper in the air transforming Spotlights into rainbow fumes and awe And a command For my heart To beat as much and as strangely As it was always meant to - Which I needed
About the hot poet: Bianca Ferrari (she/her) is a journalist, writer, poet and generally sparkly person. After bumbling around Europe for a while, she seems to have finally found a home in Amsterdam, and is very excited about that. She is also excited about the idea that maybe - just maybe - it might be her time to rest, and blossom. Writing poetry is her healing superpower.
Tomorrow we continue; and then again and again and again.
See you next week,
PTK