Embedded Files
Queen Kong Discovers the Clitoral Bone
Gorilla females divorce their males
every few stretching years and
are not prevented from doing so.
Gorillas have clits
vajazzled with the ivory word baubellum,
gorilla lovers manage to find them
regularly in the fossil record
open sesamoid passwords to
former pleasures of the flesh,
the toothy vestige attesting to
refractory periods, excitation,
tumescence, to here we go again.
Os clitoris amongst the Hominoidea!
the websites roar
And with female orgasms
in all great apes verified and also
apparently amongst monkeys
we evolutionarily hypothesise
female orgasmic capacity
likely already was present in the
common monkey-ape ancestor,
our animal protomama
the lime-brained zeusis
a fiery shrew queen
who unblushingly holds
an erect bone candle to herself
with no fakers to the throne
our true reigning monarch of genital scrimshaw
gelatine, osteon, bone char,
peter and wolff’s law
antler, beak, horn, tusk,
a primate nutcracker grunting in functional pleasure
knuckle, wishbone, oracle, greenstick,
and eventually aided by her clitoris in
making sex an enjoyable experience for females
when the right partner is selected under
predictive evolutionary patterns of female choice and
begetting us all,
her monkey, her ape children.
New Evidence for Symbolic Thought Amongst the Neanderthals
The big eyes grow up like planets
hit puberty at time of the dead salt sea
dry eye syndrome affects those who say trite
things like there wasn’t a dry eye in the house
or drier than a nun’s country toast.
Shakespeare say things like that
he always gets a pass and too right
the irises expand in parch and emit pale green
like glow-in-the-dark stickers
It takes magic to use your
green eyes to see through water and
think you see a god or phantom
It takes self-guided
image generation to see
through liquid to the distortion and
and see not the glass but something else
through the shivering molecule shield
a gateway to another thought
that moves shining to another wet
unfalsifiable belief
far deeper than supraorbital ridges a
a thought so fragile it easily could dry
Kathleen Bryson is an Alaskan-born evolutionary anthropologist (UCL 2017), with a day job as an EU VR/AI research fellow and with previous posts at Oxford and QMUL. She has had four novels previously published and 45+ poems in publications ranging from Magma to Ghost City Review. Her website is www.kathleenbryson.com.
Copyright © 2026 by Kathleen Bryson, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.
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