Published in Overland Issue 235 Winter 2019 Uncategorized The hymen diaries Eileen Chong I Stone in fist. Rock in hand. Sand a canvas, moon not yet— Circle of circles. There an angle, here a curve—at the centre, only your own hewn face. Spiral of nothing. The tide comes. Takes it all— II You turn the corner into an entire room of uteri—watercoloured wombs on wallpaper, stitched and stuffed fabric fallopian tubes casting solid shadows. A sumi ink landscape of breasts, rising and falling, peaks and troughs, valleys and mountains. Here, a jagged skull: memento mori, the jaw missing, eyeholes dark like the void. A great big fuck-you to fertility. Suddenly, you don’t feel so alone. III Almost transgressive to look at the woman with her legs slightly parted. Not a woman, but knowing a woman had to pose for it. Every fold of skin, every minute hair present— A toddler covers her eyes when she sees it and her mother leads her around to the front and waits for her to look again. They talk, quietly, so I can only imagine the wise, open conversation I never had. Pubis, vulva, labia, clitoris. The stomach flat, the hips concave. Pert breasts, blush of nipples. I have never looked like this, not even in my dreams. IV She has clamped a hand over her mouth. She has two children standing next to her. She has stopped painting figures. Black, rust, white—concatenation of snow and rain. To exist is to resist. The poem is a response, in parts, to the following artworks: I: Katie Giresar’s Everything changes, nothing is lost (2014), site-specific installation at Long Cove Point, Maine, USA. II: Annette Messager’s Papier peint Utérus (Wallpaper Uterus) (2017) and Utérus doigt d’honneur (Uterus Giving the Finger) (2017), seen at Pudique-publique, Institut Valencia d’Art Modern, Valencia, Spain. III: Paul McCarthy’s That Girl (TG Awake) (2012–2013), seen at Hyper Real, National Gallery of Australia, Canberra. IV: Juana Frances’ Silenci (1953) and Dona am dos xiquets (1952), seen at A Contratemps: Mig segle d’artistes valencianes (1929–1980), Institut Valencia d’Art Modern, Valencia, Spain, and Cometos (1989), seen at Museo de Arte Contemporaneo de Alicante, Alicante, Spain. Image: Sergei Akulich on Unsplash Read the rest of Overland 235 If you enjoyed this poem, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Eileen Chong Eileen Chong is an Australian poet. She is the author of eight books. Her next collection of poetry, A Thousand Crimson Blooms is forthcoming from UQP in April 2021. She lives and works on unceded Gadigal land of the Eora Nation. www.eileenchong.com.au More by Eileen Chong Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays First published in Overland Issue 228 6 February 20236 February 2023 Aboriginal Australia Winaga-li Gunimaa Gali: listen, hear, think, understand from our sacred Mother Earth and our Water Winaga-li Gunimaa Gali Collective To winaga-li, Gomeroi/Kamilaroi people must be able to access Gunimaa. They must be able to connect and re-connect. Over 160 years of colonisation has privileged intensive agriculture, grazing and heavily extractive water management regimes, enabled by imposed property regimes and governance systems. Gunimaa and Gali still experience the violent repercussions of these processes, including current climate changes which are exacerbating impacts, as droughts become longer, floods and heat extremes become more intense, and climatic zones shift, impacting on species’ viability and biodiversity. 2 First published in Overland Issue 228 3 February 20233 February 2023 Fiction Fiction | Romeo and Juliet II: Haunted rentals Georgia Symons The hauntings are actually quite flamboyant here, though. Yeah, come in, come in. Not like my friend Moya’s house—it just has a tool shed that sometimes isn’t there and that’s it. So boring. Yes, you can keep your shoes on.