The Femme Playlist & I Cannot Lie to the Stars That Made Me by Catherine Hernandez

The Femme Playlist & I Cannot Lie to the Stars That Made Me by Catherine Hernandez

Author:Catherine Hernandez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Playwrights Canada Press
Published: 2018-05-17T19:28:30+00:00

* * *

all: Part One: The Mistake (in which we are served bullshit).

They eat together. Kissing and telling.

witness 2: Go on. We’re ready.

she: A bowl of rambutan, spiky and sweet, sitting in a bowl atop an endless mahogany table. Three generations of my family sit here. Along the pineapple silk edges of the tablecloth, along the embroidery so personal, a line of ants make their journey to what we feel is rightfully ours. I am a child. I watch silently. The ants invade the bowl as the elders talk loudly. What I believe to be pestilence is simply a nuisance. My lolo with his calloused fingers takes one rambutan by its spikes, shakes it vigorously of the ants and dives his thumbs into the flesh, the spikes merely a threat. It is the beautiful goddess sister to the unceremonious lychee. A syrupy dream between the legs of the most coveted woman.

witness 3: Don’t be shy. Say what you want to say.

she: What I am trying to say is:

My moon is in sync with the moon in the sky which means that my appetite is as big as the cosmos.

So do not put your hand near my mouth or I will bite you. And do not kiss me or I will swallow you whole.

Unless you want me to bite you.

Unless you want me to swallow you.

witness 3: Exactly.

she: Because, true say, this table is the perfect size for my body supine and waiting for you to devour me.

I am like the pomelo fruit, you see?

It demands to be romanced from beginning to end, like a woman who refuses to be used as a place of deposit. If she is ready, if her flesh is soft and welcoming, then you can dig into her gently, pry her open from the middle. Once she is splayed out, inviting you, she lets out this fragrance you can actually see, this mist into the air, a funk that drives you crazy, for you must have her, now, at this moment.

witness 2: Yes!

she: But she makes you work.

witness 2: No!

she: You gently feel your fingers around the flesh at her fibres, slowly, and she gives you small rewards of small tastes of her as you lick your fingers hungrily. Slowly. Her skin begins to unfold fully, displaying the prowess of her sweetness, and you dive in. Finally. She welcomes the speed of your desires. Your mouth now sucking at her innermost sections. She welcomes you. And then she’s finished.

witness 1: Damn.

she: She leaves you, foolish, sticky around your lips. Your fingers exhausted and proud.

witness 1: Who are you kidding? It’s you who is foolish. Don’t you feel your lover slipping away even before you have completed your journey?

all: She has mistaken your generosity for weakness.

witness 3: The fiercer our femininity, the harder we have to fight to be loved well. Isn’t that the truth?

she: Where are you now? I ask.

all: No answer.

she: Do you love me now? I ask.

all: No answer.

witness 1: The blanket isn’t large enough for the both of you, but she doesn’t seem to mind that your toes are left uncovered.



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