Two Pounds of Flesh

Beneath the layers of fibers and print
and everyday bravado
that sound like acquiescence
are the two pounds of flesh
closest to my heart.

Is my manhood enough
to warrant the price
of the two pounds of flesh
closest to my heart
cut away to pay off the debt
to a gender that won't own me?

Is my womanhood enough
to warrant the price
of the two pounds of flesh
closest to my heart
cut away to pay off the debt
to a gender I can't own?

Beneath the layers of fibers and print
and everyday bravado
that sound like acquiescence
is a gender that pays
no debts and makes no apologies.