When I Was Young

When I was young, I played with men.

I felt their heartbeat too.

I remember how clumsily they held a child,

a child that was not their own.

 

When I was young, I cared too little,

about what I wore. At times. I didn't wear it at all.

It didn't matter then. I suspect. Anyway.

THAT cut wasn't skilled enough to sweat. 

 

When I was young, they boasted of my slip of the tongue. 

Oh yes! I had a tongue once. To speak. So I believed.

What else would God place them there for?

Just to roll what was fed. You must be crazy.

 

And NOW that I am young, I am not allowed to play with men.

And yet, I hear their heartbeat more.

It pounds rigorously when they hold a child,

a child that is not their own.

 

Now, I spend hours contemplating how I should look. 

But I don't think, they see my clothes at all.

My tongue now speaks a different language.

It has boundaries not to be crossed. 

 

By the night, I hear echoes of praises sung to honor women.

A wondrous phenomenon is visible only in the dark.