If grace can be defined
from masculinity to feminineness, the angular
or the soft, the sharp shapes of male bodies, I'd be
the female-like curve of a vase, I'd be the soft-to-
softly-fading brown color inside of it, outside of it,
the postures of Greek athletics--the bodies they
had--bending, modeling the way we normally
see them: one
whose head falls backwards, his whole posture
as though saying Take me Take me, the other
whose right arm is an u-shaped shape around
a grey discus, muscles flexed, upper body
arching to one side to give power to the throw still
to be made. Figures, all Greek. All demonstrating
masculinity, I think, inside myself, now imagining
an image of a warrior whipping hard his horse
from his chariot, now two figures wrestling For life For glory.
Is that masculine grace? Is it? I ask, and I laugh
a laugh not a laugh. Frustration. What do they have
that we have not better? This dominance between sexes,
is it right? Is it supposed to be like this?
What about the soft feathers of a wing,
the way outstretched it suggest a softness too soft
to be anything else? Is it female then? Is it? Is it
deemed inferior? Like feelings, can't grace be both? The soft
feathers of a falcon wing, for example, doesn't
they demonstrate a feminine beauty in a masculine
form? Why are you so busy relishing in your own
fucking sex
to see another? To make it equal?
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