Rosa Luxemburg’s Strap-on
here is Rosa Luxemburg’s strap-on
harnessed onto her body as she makes incendiary notes,
britches open slightly to accommodate the thrust of ideas.
perhaps, she thinks, the revolt should not wait
for an equalized working class,
for the false ideologies of the bourgeois democracy.
but instead, like the strap-on, the proletariat
should tack itself onto Marx’s cunt,
the most technologically advanced layers
attaching themselves to the organic
in order to create a revolutionary whole.
Rosa’s strap-on wiggles slightly at this thought,
enumerating her body as an event.
communicated is not the agonizing terms
of reminiscence, of an aesthetic loss uttered
by the banality of its pragmatism,
for this is the forging of a revolutionary program
refusing to capitulate to the civilizing forces of capitalism.
without warning, Rosa’s strap-on rises
in self-congratulation, becoming vertical in utter contrast
to her radical ideas of the horizontal.
the irony is not lost, and an unease quickly surfaces.
the strap-on suddenly casts about for a rubbing space,
looking to relieve an interior tension,
looking to strike out into a gaping, wounded world,
a world not quite ready for the intimacies of de-reification,
for the erection of a pleading love
debaushed and malignant
often vodkka-drunke even to vomit
wholy neglecteth observing
the monethly sicknesse
and yet leads he himselfe into the darke glory hole
endeavoring to perswade poore
women to forsware their bodys to him
an uncivill prophaner of the speculumme,
the dilator, the stiruppes, &c
hath been very negligent of a Cure
betaken himselfe to the Xanaxxe
putting his lewde dicke into one’s hand
pulling up the labb coate of a nurse
and devouring the principall and vitall parts
common frequenter of YouPornne
while on the jobbe
asked for cell number of severall patients
after he wenteth about examme
a non-empathick sexxe addickt
only performs abortionne
in case of dayte rape
but not incestte
preaches buggery is no sinne
exceptte when he himselfe cannot be aroused
a sutor to Satanne he is
fitt only for works of darknesse
Vanessa Roveto is a filmmaker and writer living in Los Angeles.