Write a poem in the voice of the other gender
I’m hot.
Not the toney body hot
that makes you want to shake your booty,
though I have danced.
Not the humid erotic hot
that you feel in your nipples,
though I have loved.
But the midnight hot
when I throw off the covers
and measure minutes long.
My grown children keep their own time now;
there are no urgent cries in the night,
there won’t be others.
Some memories make a refuge where I can
let the bad dreams go. I can
make the clock tick comfortably.
Freed from hormonal puppet strings, I can
rise to my own future. I can
make friends important, even men.
Morning will bring fiber cereal,
supplements and stretching,
the sweat will cool at the back of my neck.
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