THE FOREDGE REVIEW //

tuesday, this

        i was joking with my friends about the concept of tad, as in “let’s move a tad quicker” or “she’s a tad too hot for you.” if we take tad to stand for a tad(pole), then super tad is a froglet, super a froglet is a frog. above that, maybe a toad?

        so i was thinking about degrees, and then i was thinking about binaries. anyway, i had an idea, and i want you to listen.

         i’m proposing a revolutionary theory of gender: the quaternary.

         there is man. super of man is woman.

        super of woman is, let’s say, the clit.

        you might ask, if sub clit is woman, and sub woman is man, then what is sub man? to that i say: it is the literal, unmetaphorical, graphically shit piece of subhuman shit who did not have your permission, your blessing, your frog-level yes.

friday, last

        i marched with my classmates to raise awareness for gender-based violence. if you had been there, you probably would have thought we looked a tad silly—the crowd had been considerably thinned out by other friday night activities. but you know, i saw a cute boy there i did not expect to see (more later- call me) and i thought that even if our numbers were not great, we were fucking cool.

         later, during the poetry and dance and moment of silence i thought about you. when they fucked my rights, i wasn’t thinking of me. because i haven’t had to think about it before, at least not like you have. instead, i thought about all of the shits who have come into your life before.

         later, during the poetry and dance and moment of silence i thought about you. when they fucked my rights, i wasn’t thinking of me. because i haven’t had to think about it before, at least not like you have. instead, i thought about all of the shits who have come into your life before.

        when the march ended, i saw everyone crying, and i just know that if you had been there, you’d be crying, too. i would hug you. my body would expand until i could shield you from every attack, attacker, and injury.

        i know it wouldn’t be enough, because nothing can ever be enough. but believe me, i would stay there hugging you close so long as you wanted a warm, friendly body.

for months, now

        i’ve been searching for the right words. i’m sorry, i can’t find them.

just now

        apparently the word tad used to mean little boy, and that’s how it became an expression. i don’t like that as much as tadpole, and you and i are supermen, and you decide when and if and how to tell the others about your world, your words, these frogs, okay?

always

        i love you an invasive infestation of frogs.