i imagine we are two men together
you enter me and i feel close
to you—or to masculinity, a rock
skipping over a lake— i skim
the surface but never seem to
land. i bottom you and cry
in the bathroom afterwards,
so afraid of what it means to be
a man—how much of me i lose
to me each time i take my clothes
off, or put them on again, or how
i let you be inside me. i know this
song, how a bird always sings like
a bird. an empty well full of coins.
bennett nieberg (they/them) is a queer Jewish poet living in Boulder, CO. They are a Pushcart Prize nominee and their work has appeared or is forthcoming in Entropy, Permafrost, Western Humanities Review, Birds Piled Loosely, Lunch Ticket,and The Hunger, among others. They are a co-founding editor of the journal What Are Birds.