Glass Poetry Press

Volume Four Issue Two

Stacia M. Fleegal


Am I being entered by a man or leaving the body of a woman? This bed is a bassinet with satin sheets, and leads to a back porch with a door that waxes brief and wanes eternal. Always the porch. Always a hand in some kind of motion across my cheek, which is a morning glory for either of them. He was just here, I know it, my body still so warm. I have heard this silence before; it is my hermaphrodite. His face becomes hers becomes me naked on a back porch. I reach for my clothes in a bassinet, uncover a bloodstone.