What is it like to be a man?
the painter asked.
Is it the stubble that grows on your face?
Is it the underpants and trousers you wear to work,
the brogues you pull over your socks,
the wombless life you live.
What is it like to resemble a man?
the painter asked.
To talk like a man,
to eat like one of the lads,
to have male blood in your veins,
and the wombless way you walk.
What is it like to feel a man?
the painter asked.
To feel grown up,
to shut your mouth when entranced,
to be silent when dismayed,
to keep secrets from your best friend,
and mature in an eggless, wombless existence,
the painter asked.
From Bath to Cork with baby Grace 