The Man In Me

PROSE POETRY

Precision was number one priority,
when measuring wood to fit
into the area inside the closet space

The pencil line was carefully hidden
and nine inches drawn to be sawed off

I gripped the handle of the flat saw;
acting out the part
of a construction man,
breaking up the sidewalk;
using a jack hammer

Earlier that day I picked out a
favorite eye shadow color, olive-blue
After-wards applied black mascara,
to stimulate the make-up

The honey color lipstick,
blended nicely with the
coloring on my skin

I a woman, let the ball
on the tip of a Guess perfume
bottle glide on both wrists

and behind my earlobes,
down to a spot in between
the breasts, held by a
Victoria’s burgundy bra,
applied more breath taking scent

I slipped on a beige cami
along with tight blue jeans,
a pair of western boots, and
hair down over shoulders

After the sanding down,
the shelves were smooth
to the touch; like my
feminine hands, and
to add,no splinters

I picked up the heavy drill,
plugged to the outlet,
got a good clutch on it,
pushed in the turn on button,
drilled in each three inch nail,
all together the count, eighteen nails

My wrists were tired and aching,
shoulders throbbing,
an increased arm pit sweat;
due to intense concentration,
neck piercing pain,
increasing spine spasms,
from back and forth
motion of the sawing,
sanding, and drilling
done by positive me and
a touch of masculinity
given unto me by the
Creator when forming
woman from a part of a man.

By. Vanessa Ramos