I Enter Rooms
I enter rooms in head lights,
the way it has always been.
Men will tell me chapters of my life
read through green soil in fertile eyes.
I will believe them, trained like a sealrewarded in tossed affection.
My sex was handed to me like a trophy,
my prized possession. Mine.
You, raised in the safety of isolation,
enter rooms running free.
Your risk is only to yourself.
I lose when the lights dim.
Forgive me for what I love most,
your masculine width protective.
The way your hands hold a guitar,
strong, yet careful. She is your lover.
She shines as you enter a room.
If only I could be as solid as wood.
I know only of men and what they need;
how to make them love my mouth
which speaks so inadequately.
The shame fills me with a bitter remorse.
I try to reach beyond curves, erect things
only to hide my inability to tell you
this is who I think I am.
I will let you swim in your lake of skin,
run free back to woods and internal
worlds, but I will not release or let go.
All that is left to hold- your image,
your chest breathing, heavy,