I envy men who can yearn <br />with infinite emptiness <br />toward the body of a woman, <br /> <br />hoping that the yearning <br />will make a child, <br />that the emptiness itself <br />will fertilize the darkness. <br /> <br />Women have no illusions about this, <br />being at once <br />houses, tunnels, <br />cups & cupbearers, <br />knowing emptiness as a temporary state <br />between two fullnesses, <br />& seeing no romance in it. <br /> <br />If I were a man <br />doomed to that infinite emptiness, <br />& having no choice in the matter, <br />I would, like the rest, no doubt, <br />find a woman <br />& christen her moonbelly, <br />madonna, gold-haired goddess <br />& make her the tent of my longing, <br />the silk parachute of my lust, <br />the blue-eyed icon of my sacred sexual itch, <br />the mother of my hunger. <br /> <br />But since I am a woman, <br />I must not only inspire the poem <br />but also type it, <br />not only conceive the child <br />but also bear it, <br />not only bear the child <br />but also bathe it, <br />not only bathe the child <br />but also feed it, <br />not only feed the child <br />but also carry it <br />everywhere, evertwhere... <br /> <br />while men write poems <br />on the mysteries of motherhood. <br /> <br />I envy men who can yearn <br />with infinite emptiness<br /><br />Erica Jong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/penis-envy/
