Hermaphrodite
I'd seen her in the pub from time to time -
shortish height, slightly awkward jerky movements
not quite to be called boyish
like her haircut,
indeterminate of age -
a worn sixteen; an undeveloped twenty-six?
but in a year or two, she seemed the latter
though her vulnerable, aggressive stance
made age irrelevant.
had she been more confident, more inyerface
she'd have been lesbait, no doubt of that; I felt
uncomfortable around her, as you do, however kind,
around those who have not yet resolved their life.
but she didn't pose her boyishness; wore
her trousers without pride; didn't
give off that lesbian vibe.
she might almost have been
the girl in the girls' school play who was as tomboy
told to play the boy and
who wore the clothes
and hated it.
then she started coming in with her quiet,
steady boyfriend; sometimes with their dog; she seemed more relaxed.
I gave her no more thought;
was faintly happy for her, I found.
so there I was one day, pissing off twice the amount
of beer I'd drunk - strange, isn't it? - in the Gents;
the door opens, in she walks, stands two urinals away
and does her thing - I guessed... well, no,
I didn't take a closer look - for she was
challenging me to respond.
And I didn't have a response.
I'd never seen her
doing that before; maybe my age suited her for a role
in some sad psychodrama of her unhappy life,
I, cast, perhaps, as proxy father, uncle, teacher, godknowswhat..
I didn't respond; nor did sex
raise its tumescent head; in fact I'd say, rather the reverse.
Of course she couldn't have known
that English boarding school,
ages seven to twenty-one (for the really thick and desperate) ,
equips you with a knowledge of acquired hermaphroditism
of an innocent yet knowing kind - beyond, I'd guess,
the experience of many a born hermaphrodite...
to please your hero man
at any price
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
