Bourgeois / foreskin
The penis is capacious: it’s a handbag, an armpit,
the space between two objects. Two lips.
It has space inside for a lipstick, wallet, tampons,
a gun. Cocked. Dirty tissues, a dried-up pen, condoms
used and caught in a wrinkle of leather and silk.
It snaps shut on a mirror, opens at the twist
of her fingers. Above all, it contains – archives,
embraces, protects. Envelops. There is no outside
to its outside, its round balls hold all the world,
and in its ducts the Milky Way. Finger each swirl
from the lidded eye: the o of how (as in power),
the o of come (as in money). No way out
beneath this burial dress, this baggage
mummifying daddy’s little girl.
From Her Various Scalpels, 2009