The Boys Are Always Talking

about their cocks, naming
names—Rebecca, Elizabeth,
Ashley—we see these girls
all lined up, waiting to admire

the boys’ cocks. And the boys
talk about size of their cocks,
seven inches becomes ten, then
thirteen. They tell us how

they measured their cocks
after their first wet dream: they
woke up sweaty, quick-covered,
got their cocks hard again, pulled

out the ruler. Boys and cocks
everywhere. A boy shows his
cock to a girl on the playground.
Another boy watches girls from

a parked car while he touches
his cock. On the subway, boys
unzip their pants, put cocks
on display. Baby boys discover

their tiny cocks during every
diaper change. I didn’t see
my own clit was until I was
twenty-three. I had to hold

a mirror just to see it rise
like slow-motion stalagmite.
Had to hold back my own skin
just to show it to myself.

BY LAURA E. DAVIS

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Laura E. Davis is the author of Braiding the Storm (Finishing Line Press 2012). Her poems and reviews are featured or forthcoming in Redactions, The Rumpus, Stone Highway Review, WomenArts Quarterly, and others. The Founding Editor of the literary magazine Weave, Laura teaches poetry writing, translation, and recitation in San Francisco, where she lives with her partner, Sal.