WOE-MAN


WOE-MAN
by Nelson M. Buso Jr.

Boy, remember the very first day you kissed a woman,
how you entered her womb and labelled yourself a man,
how you owned her that night and called her "your own",
how you took off her purity,
her curvaceous etiquette,
her full - figured decency,
her womanly honor.
Remember, how you clothed it all onto your skin
and tagged yourself "a God".
You have found yourself a crown.

Remember how you woke up next to her the following morning
how you saw her uncovered, naked before your eyes.
Remember how she lay her body against your chest, enervated and dead – tired with your last night`s storm
like a withered ocean
or a fragment
or a vestige
a residue of last night`s feast.
Remember how you saw your body
your smooth skin,
your enormous muscle
your pornographic torso
You have called yourself “Zeus”.
The God of Gods.

But, boy -
remember that you just have broader shoulders,
and tougher hands,
and well - founded muscles;
but behind your heavy - built bones,
lies a thousand fragile veins.
Remember, how your manhood can only survive a storm and not a desert.
Boy, you are weak,
and frail,
and brittle,
and breakable.

Remember, how a naked woman exists
at the bottom of your masculine heart.
You are a man; but you are also a woman.

You just lost a rib.

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