Faced with a mirror,
It seems that my Adam’s apple
has refused to blossom.
I’ve been absolved of the Sins of Man,
But not absolved of
being a Man.
O Mary, my Mother,
You must now kneel
At the foot of all the Crucifixes
Of your banned children.
Because to be a Mother of Women,
Means to birth your baby,
With nails pounded into their palms.
Taught to fear the vile Serpent,
but once I shed my Faith,
I too, began to slither.
An apple never passed my lips,
but I am still banned from Eden.
I find myself Crucified to this
Cross of Chromosomes.
Perfume wraps
around my wrists.
Woman in a Bottle,
Man in Battle.
Born an Entity in a Man’s body,
an Entity in a
Man’s World
…yet
Not Man enough to respect.
Nowhere near Woman enough to Love.
