Would You... Poem by R.B. Gyle

If I left the door open
and you saw me seated
in the toilette, bathroom's
bright light making
my biceps beam, hands
holding a magazine, body
now more like a tube
of organic toothpaste,

would you

still think in your crotch
that I am sexy?

Would you

wait still
at the threshold
of this ultra-
terrestrial temple
so that in one swift attack
on my humanity

you would,

in the next act, make me
feel
not just sexy,
not just good,
but filled with lumen
and divine?