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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

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