In this special Sex Week edition of Get Lit!, our occasional literature forum, we offer an incredible poem about Karl Marx's Pussy. It's taken from Arcadia_Missa's essential new journal, the Open Office Anthology and written on the journey to, and read at the Insurrectionary Desire show at the Peckham art space, by Hannah Black
Karl Marx's Pussy
let us imagine Karl Marx's pussy
compressed into a chair at the British library
shielded by a heavy overcoat thrown over the lap
and beneath that a pair of linen trousers
beneath that, plain white panties
the pussy lips slightly parted, like a mouth about to speak
humid but not exactly wet
this mild excitement caused by a crucial passage
in Hegel's logic – could it be, thinks Marx,
that the dialectical movement of history can
be understood as the unfolding self-abolition
of the totality to which it is immanent? Marx's pussy
flexes involuntarily, the word 'pussy' implies a totality
made up of labia, clitoris and so on, it would be incorrect
to describe it as a hole, just as communism is not
merely a critique of suffering but the real movement
that abolishes the present state of things – the deep
pink of the interior of Marx's pussy is not exactly
red, the pussy is not yet sufficiently lubricated
to accept the entry of proletarian revolution,
one faction advises stimulation of the clitoris
while another describes this as 'vanguardist'
yes, it would be better for Marx's pussy to get wet
on its own account, without extra inducements, with
the deep sodden wetness that is the wetness of real
desire, the unmistakeable wetness of wanting,
the wetness of a necessary love
Buy Open Office Anthology
