Your voice always whacked me right on the funny bone of the great-hearted suffering bitch fantasy that ruled me like a huge copper moon with its phases until I could partially break free. // Share this on…
FE Author: Marge Piercy
Metamorphosis into Bureaucrat
by Marge Piercy
Fifth Estate # 126, March 4-17, 1971
My hips are a desk. From my ears hang chains of paper clips. Rubber bands form my hair My breasts are wells of mimeograph ink. My feet bear casters. Buzz. Click. My head is a badly organized file. My head …