To turn man into woman, woman into man—
Are thine, Inanna
— Enheduanna, Sumerian High Priestess

Queen of Heaven, hear the story of my body,

            a god’s curse, struck by the arrowhead of myth, flying

                        serrated and true—hear me, godhead of all that is taboo.

                                    Hear my endless appetite, like Jörmungandr I swallow

the world and come up licking my lips for more. I battle

            the gods that shaped me; cast me in the sea and still

                        I survive. Make me and I am unmade: like the clay

                                    that ferried your story the span of six thousand years,

I am baked in fire but not burnt, kept brittle but whole.

            Upend me and I am upended: I unfold the paper doll

                        chain of myself and look—Glitter! Like a scar shot

                                    through with light, dimpling me forever—your claws

carving my cavities like Prometheus on the rock. Shaped

            from mud I am reed-bound, Inanna, so call on the gods,

                        call down the sky, because you are my war chant, Inanna.

                                    In lieu of lyre and lute, hear me Bluetooth you satanic

rock opera, Gaga, electronica—I cut my teeth learning

            how to give you kudos, how to kowtow to thee, Inanna.

                        You contain even the sky god, An. Hear it within your name:

                                    In-An-Na. Swallowing up the macho yonder even as I

dwindle—shapeshift with me, siphon the cusp of myself

            from my body. I worship thee, Inanna: Take me to the reeds

                        and bless me in the blood that waters whatever strange land

                                    lashes together the love and war in me.