Pits
We go on and we tremble.
God says we can screw now.
God says to give up all your lovers,
Time to die.
When I was younger I drove a Lincoln.
God said to trade it in.
A tad lovely, then, and terrible,
And sick of my own kind,
I wanted to become a woman.
I wanted to wash the feet of other women
In public, I wanted his eyes
On me, olives on the ground.
I gave you my hand,
Now I go around with my sleeve
Tucked in my coat.
I climb no trees, touch
One breast at a time,
Hold no hands myself.