Last Walls is a partnership between Thiscene Media and If Walls Could Talk. Every week, organizer Melizarani T. Selva gives us one of her favorite poems from the last If Walls Could Talk and we put it up on the site.
This poem was performed at IF WALLS COULD TALK vol.30 feat Marina Tan and Beverly Matujal, on Thursday, March 9, 2017.
The Boob Trooper
by Nur Surya Abu
Take it off.
The moment I reach the comfort of my own home,
As I feel the liberating sensation of putting words into action.
Take it off.
As I reach for my back to unclasp the hook,
letting the lacy material fall to the ground.
The pure ecstasy that I call… freedom.
Every day, I walk and sit for 10 hours on average,
with my body upright and my boobs right up.
Sometimes, I can feel them glancing.
Especially when I don a spaghetti strap
in this blistering Malaysian heat.
Now, don’t get me wrong.
I’m not saying that it’s a #bigboobproblem because let’s face it,
it doesn’t apply to, ahem, me.
But judging by the look in your eyes,
should I let my elbows meet while you sit in front of me
as I feel your eyeballs go up and down, and up and down,
and up and down.
Should I just sit here and let you indulge in “this,”
as your thoughts wander into how it would feel like to touch “them”.
Should I be perfectly O.K. as the words “damn” or “fuck”
make their way to the corners of your mind and not feel objectified
while you decide whether it may be
too flat or perky enough
for you to want to motorboat—
because let’s face it,
you’ll take whatever you can get.
But while I stand here, tall and proud of everything I’ve become,
listen to me when I say,
I am not an object, or a toy, or a fantasy.
All along, I’ve been hearing white noise ever since these swells have come into existence.
So when you look at me,
I invite you to look at all of me—
And I mean every single part.
In writing, I could piece the words together
and tell you about how I will always meet you halfway
between the letters U and I.
Believe me, these lips can whisper the universe into your ears,
while these hands trace circles around your back like an infinite spiral.
Tell me about your goals and your dreams.
Tell me everything about you but don’t tell me
about the A’s, B’s, C’s, or D’s you’ve conquered
with your hands, your silent breaths and your sweet nothings.
I am a trooper, with my defences close against my chest
and my heart guarded behind closed concrete walls.
I will not be another page in your diary.
I am the book you’ll never want to put down.
Because trust me when I say,
I will love you till kingdom come.
Now, I am not asking for equality.
After all, you and I were built differently.
But I do ask that you treat me with respect—
As a person,
and as a woman.
There are things that this body can withstand
that you just… can’t.
So, the next time I catch your eyes glancing
at this space under my neck,
and I hope you’ll forgive my knee
as it unapologetically introduces itself
to the tiny sacks
in between your legs.
Nur Surya Abu is an idealist who firmly believes that while curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction always brought it back.