When I Was Young
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 fe
d. 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.