Soft Night

I am dying tomorrow
So I can live today.

I will die a woman
Just as I have lived
As a man:
Smooth skin and hair,
Perfect breasts and waist
Teeth of ivory
And fingers of feathers.

I will die perfect
For I will die
As what I never was.
A beak shall replace
The phallus
And a lilly will cover
My lips of dew.

All those things
I will be tomorrow,
Today I will be
Nothing but
What I am,
Everything but
What I am.

I am lost in a space
Of sex and coccoons.
Moons in my brow,
Queens on my lap.
Mating with the octopus
Strangling Saturn
As its ring hovers
In my ears.

I am going to compose
A symphony with new instruments
Without ever having learned
Music.

I will paint a face outside the canvass
And its double in the next room
Without ever having learned
Art.

I crafted a new goddess
With the pose of a beggar
Without ever having learned
Sculpture.

Don't ask me how I can:
I am going to die tomorrow.
Don't ask me why:
I am going to die tomorrow.

Who decided?
No one will know,
For to know who decided
Is to know who I am,
And I cannot die
If I've lost my virginity
To those outside me.

The Virgin Mary conceived
In Purity from God's hand.
I conceive my death
From the lust of my divinity.

I am dying tomorrow
So I can live today.