there’s never any woman
who is more unfortunate to be a woman
than the woman
who is near you

now, I’ve got no idea of beauty
but when you said “I love your femininity,”
I can coalesce what you meant

“woman,”
"woman,"
“woman”

soft, accessible, permissible
the earthly mans ego-stroking
shower-fantasy
of what it means to be
“A Proverbs 31 woman”

a beauty, meaning

something to reflect you
endlessly
a mirror with a nice rack
a way to hear yourself talk
again and again and again and again
stripped bare for you
mouthing it all back

“you’re beautiful,”

it sounds
so very, very, very ugly
when I know just what you mean

how dare you make
“woman”
sound like something like that

I’ve got no idea of beauty
still reconciling femininity
my womanhood
still reconciling me

but I’ll never fit your narrative
or engage with your empty analects
of what it means to be

because you don’t know how to

and you certainly don’t know beauty