I’ve got something to say

By | 1 November 2018

Will I always be   scowling, cowering
up tops of trees under   stars, slumping
my shoulders? Will I always be media-
frenzied and flung under   palatable rainbow
buses? Will I always be   a warning   a cautionary tale
to you? i.e. keep the   kids away from
that one: a ‘genderqueer’   (sic) costs
an arm and a leg and   hormones
to upkeep. Don’t buy it, don’t engage, let sleeping dogs
lie to me like I’m someone   you don’t   want to hurt.

  When everything else in your life is sturdy
  statements, why am I the   question?
  Why do I ask, can you   love me (as I am)?
  Rather, that you should   (be happy) to love me
  in sickness and amidst my   unhealthy eating
  habits. Thus I have (timidly)   written: please
  plead with me your case of   shame at my
  flailing sins, because could I not be   your blessing
  cloaked as that baby   you once assigned   and held?

Note: This is a response poem to Alex the Astronaut’s song ‘Not Worth Hiding’.

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