when I was young I learned to be scared

of women, couldn’t trust one

another, caution of a surgeon’s glove, and

masked

I never told anyone that we kissed

once, a Kleenex between our mouths not

because we were both

girls (I was

the boy anyway, always

the boy) but because we thought that was how

actors did it

there it is: my lips are

sealed, suspicious

of softness and the tin

can trail of your chin, your

garlic press anger, your

diary-devouring sneer and

pest control sway

see, that’s why I confide in men

so much easier: they cannot hurt me

just as bad