Poetry: “Boy, Girl, Boy, Girl” by Anna Szilagyi

Boy, Girl, Boy, Girl

Charlotte poses for the camera
with her hands in her pockets,
mustached, dark hair slicked
into a low ponytail hidden 
under her crisp white collar. 
The flash bulb startles her eyes
closed. She shakes her head
and laughs. Yesterday she wore 
her Prada lipstick-print pleated 
skirt, ankles crossed underneath
her desk at the gallery. Could she 
ever feel like a man, even for 
an afternoon? Even for art? 
Charlotte keeps men 
in a holding pattern until 
the fifth date. Once, she went 
back to a man’s apartment just to 
see his original Ross Bleckner. 
She kissed him goodnight outside 
the cab, and he got in behind her, 
gave directions to a club, said 
he really needed to get laid. 
Charlotte tells the photographer, 
I think I need a bigger sock.
In the mirror, her hand strokes 
where her cock would be, and 
the shiny blowout A-line self 
disappears. At the photographer’s
opening, she fantasized he’d take her 
into the storage room and push her 
up against a wall. Charlotte grips 
the back of his neck and pulls him 
into her. She asks for what she wants 
and gets it—his work in her gallery,
his hand on her sock.

About Anna Szilagyi

Anna Szilagyi is a queer poet and writer from Long Island living in Brooklyn. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Vagabond City Lit, Recenter Press Poetry Journal, and Banshee, among other places. Anna earned her MPH in Community Health with a specialization in Maternal, Child, Reproductive, and Sexual Health from the CUNY Graduate School of Public Health and Health Policy, and is a scholar of the reality television arts and sciences. You can find her on Instagram @anna_szil and read more of her work at anna-szilagyi.com.