Birth Day Girls in Him

Her being here–

a presence in the living of my life-

now has me knowing

how much we’ve shared–

how much I’ve feared embracing

the she in me that he could see

in birthing the meeting day for us three. 

I didn’t know enough to know her in him–

but I knew she was there–

like me to serve as drama-muse for poetry–

and for learning us to learn

the we in us

cursing breaking night 

without despising ugly when it opens

light to see another later who speaks:

The day’s over–exposure is over–rated.

Was it her birthday when he faced us off?

In that gourmet hole in the wall

her eyes are burning for knowing

about the who of me–

if he is he or she to me–

if I am she or he to him–

then who the fuck is she–

and we two–she and me–

for him - just some sweet treat?

She leaves the table for the powder room.

He tells me: Don’t let her know where you live.

He tells me: She’ll talk her talk to stalk you.

He tells me: She leaves flowers on my car.

I watch her winding shape a way through server traffic.

I think: Does she know the he in her vexing

with all the fancy sex that she wears?

I think: He likes the she of him in women–

tense and ready to play

at theater for sparring.

Lois Elaine Griffith is a writer/artist living in Brooklyn, New York. She is one of the founders of the Nuyorican Poets Cafe and has been a professor of English at Borough of Manhattan Community College, CUNY.