a consideration of gonads and aging

I was just getting used to 7 years
in New York City
when suddenly it's almost eight

I was just starting to get comfortable
with saying "I'm almost thirty"
but now I most certainly am not

I have conversations with my ovaries
I've written about it before in
deep symbolism and high poetics
but I do talk to them
late at night I reach down
I feel the jut of hip bones
despite my weight, despite belly
And then in the middle
higher, lower, gently
we talk in morse code
I can't tell you what I say
it's sworn and secret confessions

and as I write this
I realize how funny it is
that I can say I massage and
whisper to my ovaries
and it's poetry, it's art
but when a man rubs his balls
and talks to himself
it's something all together
different.

(giggle)