it doesn’t seem
right,
a woman doctor
about to examine me,
shouldn’t make me so
squeamish,
should it?
plenty of male doctors
in the past
have prodded and poked me,
made me bend and squat,
thrust metallic instruments
into me,
hit me with a rubber
hammer …
and I didn’t ever
protest,
male to male bonding,
so, here she comes now,
stately in her white apparel,
stethoscope dangling like a
cobra around her neck,
a symbol of godliness,
and our eyes meet, in sort
of conspiratorial way,
both of us comfortable,
but really not as bad as I
had imagined,
she asks gentle questions,
almost like my mother would,
soothing balm to male impotence,
fingers searching everywhere as
she lays me back on the gurney,
and turns me over,
for the final act of
penetration …
all done so matter-of-factly,
that honestly,
I don’t mind it
one bit.