I am feminine, without an ovary or uterus
I’m a she, if you assess my gender seeing
my physical anatomy, then I’m your she-man.
My body doesn’t fit into biology, it may not be
that of a woman but the feeling stashed in me is
no less than that of the feminine.
I too love charming up, wearing make-up,
and lipstick; the slightly grown beard on my face
might be visible to you but not my pink heart.
You may clash that by doing so I can’t
metamorphose into a woman
you’re quite curious about what’s there
in between my two thighs but never bother to
understand how my heart sensibly beats.
You’re eyeing just my skin, flesh and bones
if you ever wish to see, there’s a woman
in the body made up of blood, flesh and bones
and you would understand the feeling of the
woman in this man’s body; I’m feminine.
Originally written in Odia by Bhishmadeb Bag, queer poet. He studied at IGNOU University and teaches in a primary school. He lives in Belpara, Balangir, Odisha in India.
Translated by Pitambar Naik, a writer and translator. His recent work appears in The McNeese Review, The Notre Dame Review, Packingtown Review, Ghost City Review, Rise Up Review, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, The Indian Quarterly and elsewhere.