The Birthmark

Mechthild Op Gen Oorth

The Birthmark
—for Coleman Dowell
__________________

I had this kind of—Special birthmark that I was ashamed of I was working as this bellhop—In this hotel and I got Lots of queer attention

My boyfriend was—Somewhat enamored With it too, ogling it My birthmark grew & grew—Like I grew and hints of Obscene pleasure crept in—Adolescence brought it—To everybody’s attention & Became a sought after thing

I got the sense that—I was being made the gay Target of thrill-seekers My dinge birthmark—Brought-out homosexuals Like butterflies from a chrysalis I felt like I was an imposter—When the men spoke soothingly About my dark imperfection

A “Venus de Milo” torso they’d say—A “Winged Victory” body they’d whisper in my ear—Matched with my black penis Such attention helped me—Overcome any trauma that Resulted from my birthmark My face and body awaking—In others a hustler’s mood My black beauty birthmark

I thought of myself as going—Where the meat was since The meat was where I was Hustling such a tedious job—Slow, necessarily slow, stretching It in & out and letting it go Subliminally it appealed to—Middle-aged closeted businessmen With their loneliness, money and despair

There was something dangerous—Ultimately erotic about a kid like me, a White kid, skinny with a black dick The game was to play innocent—Distraught, helpless, befuddled Playing the birth mark all the way A dealer in dreams—The dreams deferred being the Permanent dreams gone for trade

I acted like a dreamer—Permanently deferring my whiteness Others paying for my hesitation