dick, soft

i could play the part,

i could make you laugh-

do you think of my penis?

how often? in what lighting?

as my waistband’s favourite magic trick,

or as foucault’s favourite toy?

is it non-binary?

not in the pink bow pookie way,

in the skin, nerves, and blood way.

does it live up to the hype of gay grafitti?

i could play apart,

like dysphoria is in the eye of the beholder,

like i was born in the right body,

a random, dying, skinned body,

i could play any part,

any organ or any art,

& i’m never hard,

turgid is still soft,

like mud, on firm earth,

flesh is tender to a nail,

no really, watch me play the part-

and see if you ever think of the rest,

or is it all just jk rowling’s walking gametes-

two sides of a ticket to the ‘real life’,

gay or incel, poly or cuck, bi or horny,

& it's never neither cuz it's both,

but you only ever hear one part of what i say,

“what side are you on?”

when i’ve never read a line.