I don’t know what I am, but I am not womanly and other poems

by Morgan Carmichael

I don’t know what I am, but I am not womanly 

I couldn’t help but feel that way whenever I was around her

so womanly 

and I wasn’t, womanly I mean 

The only ounce of severed femininity I find within myself 

is that I’m scared of bugs 

or of getting mud on my shoes 

is that I have breasts 

unsolicited breasts  

Remember hiding behind the bathroom door and giving me a fright?

I’ve never felt like such a girl before

and I’m not, a girl I mean

The two women getting in between 

I said it to myself 

Sinking my head between my knees 

and tucking it all in  

inside drawers on my right hand side 

I am a vacant woman 

Who keeps all of your faces 

at the front of my head 

and inside of my mouth


at the thought of the world not falling at your feet 

I sit in front of the TV

and think of the two women getting in between


Around mine and my sides 

holding knees

staying still for a while 

Repudiating compliments

Compliments I would’ve stopped 

if I thought it made me a tough woman to do so

I wrote this thought, because I can’t write poems much anymore 

Who was that 

that kissed my birthmark front to back 

on my left thigh 




Who did I cry to?

crying tiny lakes into shoulder blades

using them like a sinks basin 




Morgan Carmichael (she/her) is a queer writer based in Glasgow, Scotland. Carmichael relishes in writing and representing the poignancy, absurdity and relatability of everyday life through her poetry, using both her past and present feelings, emotions and experiences as creative fuel. Carmichael’s poetry has previously been featured in Dreich magazine’s Winter Xtra issue, 2020.  Follow Morgan on Twitter @MorganCarmicha9 and Instagram @_morgancarmichael