womanhood goes in thick
the syringe of estrogen taking minutes to empty
as i push my thumb hard into the ribbed dispenser
and watch milliliters tick imperceptibly down like hour glass sand
counting towards curves, cycles, the fullness I crave
womanhood goes on thick
like mascara, like foundation
like red and purple lipstick layered for depth
like gel like mousse like curls
like curls cascading like water over my shoulders
like curls bedding moss at the juncture between my thighs
womanhood comes out thick
in belly and breast and back
in the uh of sluuut, in the ih of biiitch
in speech, in smell, in grind and undulation
in the way that women offer their bubbling mass up to me
and i pour mine back out as libation at their feet