Venus Envy

My right leg is covered with approximately thirty
1/4 inch holes,
supposedly made by burrowing insects;
when I apply pressure to the skin
a thick, dark red liquid oozes out from them.

* * *

As fever develops with annual germination,
and revives feelings I thought were well-contained,
nature once again proves that it has the upper hand,
and thus reminds me that this thing I hold in my hand
is more than just an elaborate urethra.
Short, handsome, and good with impressions …
he sedates my bitterness with a joke
and arouses a smile.
I delight in the stories he tells me about … his cock,
fully knowing that it, and he, are far beyond the reach
of my grotesque affections.

Sheltered within the pretense of a stoic ideal
and the bitter lessons of my failures,
I force the greatest indifference to the world and myself,
and make light of lust to hide its familiar face.
Inactivity alone makes me forget
how much I enjoy the warmth of another man’s flesh
and the relief his company promises to bring.

Now, hear me out:
To many my appearance seems a conspicuous contradiction,
of qualities and characteristics that do not mix,
yet I rarely perceive this supposed incongruity anymore.
In fact, such distinctions between the proper man
and proper woman
are now almost irrelevant to me
yet despite my usual comfort
and the cavalier indifference I effect,
a small but vexing desire manifests itself
from some old, unused unconscious waste.
Its demands can only be suppressed and denied,
not relieved but forgotten by distraction,
and inevitably returns in dream.

(Scene: His chamber, a large apartment bedroom
decorated with black, modern furnishings.)

Again … I saw him in a dream, this time embracing,
his body undressed and mine,
although it technically was and still is a secret to me.
My mind filled in the necessary details
and guided our actions with remarkable ease and skill,
fulfilling the longstanding desires I tried to forget.

On most occasions I manifest as female
to better fit his parts
but on some I become the crude invader of his needs.
He resists my hands, my humble offer of affection,
and cries out from the pain of penetration;
I panic, feel shame and guilt for the crime,
but at the height of the drama the characters vanish,
leaving only their wretched yearnings behind.

I’m told: “Breasts won’t grow quite as large
once the body reaches thirty years,”
yet I do not feel that this is who I am.
I am neither man nor woman,
and no manner of magic divining rod
will assuredly lead me to the well of vital necessity.
This is the same old moral I am forced to recall
after each and every painful cycle:
What some might believe to transcend all
does not, in fact, pervade all!

The path on which my course is seemingly set may not be
the only route open to me,
for I can never know what new and more promising avenues
I will find on my way
yet in spite of my periodic doubts I can reasonably assess
what direction is ultimately best for me
and the meaning of my destiny.

* * *

My right leg is covered with approximately thirty
1/4 inch holes,
supposedly made by burrowing insects;
when I apply pressure to the skin
a thick, dark red liquid oozes out from them.
I hear their threatening buzz but do not fret;
their instinctual task amuses me.

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