Flat against the grain
We examine the changes the other has undergone
Some marked and tailed from the womb
Others surprising and strange
The pitch of a throat, thickets of hair,
A rude swelling of breast, hip bone
Yet imprinted from birth
In makeup and composition
We tap a morse code announcing the transformation,
Fingers trailing the grain on our chin
Leaning forward, centers of gravity
Altered, pivoted, hair touching the small of the back
Cocks stiff and pulsing with blood
Thighs and biceps effortlessly round and tough,
And we examine these changes with breathless anticipation
That they might bring us back.
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