Dearly Beloved, Abomination
I am going through menopause
at twenty-nine, my skin pilling up
like a sweater. It falls from
my bones in cascades of dough. I emerge
as tanned leather hide, as sculpted back.
My penis emerges
like a snail through my labia, slowly,
slowly. Autumnal cornflower blossom.
Light streams in at an afternoon angle.
I have never been so wet with myself:
a creature with the torso of a human,
bandied legs of a goat: