There is a girl you like so you tell her
your penis is big, but that yo cannot get yourself
to use it. Its deamands are ridiculous, you say,
even self-defeating, but to be honored somehow,
briefly, inconspicuously in the dark.

When she closes her eyes in horror,
you take it all back. You tell her you're almost
a girl yoursel and can understand why she is shocked.
When she is about to walk away, you tell her
you have no penis, that you don't
know what got into you. You get on your knees.

She suddenly bends down to kiss your shoulder and you know
you're on the right track, You tell her you want
to bear children and that is why you seem confused.
You wrinkle your brow and curse the day you were born.
She tries to calm you, but you loose control
You reach for her panties and beg forgiveness as you do.
She squirms and yo howl like a wolf. Your craving
seems monumental. You know you will have her.
Taken by storm, she is the girl you will marry.

Mark Strand, Emblemas. El tucán de Virgninia, 1988.

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