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Privacy

Poetry, Anna Boughtwood


Local news tells the story of a man, a hunter 

armed with a camera


Women are deer, trying to explain in

the comment section how when his camera lens is 

trained on us, we are in the crosshairs of a gun.

How the snap of the camera’s shutter is a gunshot.

How when he posts the photos of us online,

he has confined us, 

pinned our legs in a forever-snare trap.


Local news tells the story of a 

man, the same man,

a lepidopterist treating the internet

as his butterfly pinning board.


Women are butterflies, 

straining against the pins 

piercing our thorax, trying to explain– 

How it feels to have the public’s gaze 

upon our innermost wings. 


Men are birds, flocking to the post,

 singing an endless dawn chorus with the refrain:

There is no reasonable expectation of

privacy in a public place.

 

Anna Boughtwood is a poet and fiber artist living in Albany NY. Her writing has appeared in The Quarter(ly), Impostor, and Beaver Magazine. She enjoys reading and working on elaborate knitting projects. Find her on Instagram @lotsa_livres posting about cats.

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