By | 1 November 2018

And that was not homophobia, pure and simple people. That was gendered. If I’d of been more
feminine, that would not have happened. I am incorrectly female
. – Hannah Gadsby. Nannette

What disturbed me was the scorn of the other boys, not for my sexuality, which they accepted
and sometimes enjoyed, but for a feminine sensibility which they despised…
– Patrick White. Flaws in the Glass

I will wake and put on my boy drag today.

I will nourish my children and place them
upon the toilet and start on the washing
and the Sisyphean sequences of housework
then preschool for the first, the second to playgroup
where I will sit awkward as a running hen
amongst the mothers who slide sideways
glances and don’t let their children
come too close.

I will rise and put on my boy drag today.

button down my hands
bind shoulders back and walk
stolid and straight – stomp as if I am angry
at the earth and stitch hips so that they
do not sway in that way and I will not glisten
or glimmer- I will refrain from camp of any elevation.

I will restrain myself
from discussing art, poetry, pottery
Austen, handsome men, handsome
women, clothes and I will rough
cut syllables from my sentences and shutter
my face if I should be left to try
and speak with the hegemonic
monsters of this place made of random
angers, tribal t-shirts and calibrating eyes.

I will awake and put on my boy drag today.

And when my offspring and I have strolled home through
clattering bark chime and heckling cockatoo mobs
I will put on my print apron and we will bake
and I will make tea and allow myself to be just
for a moment

and like a fifth rate Cavafy recall the all too brief days
of the sashay intersections black lipstick, eyeliner
and sliding shimmers and these boots, these boots, these boots-
and never for one second a sissy or a cuckold for I would decry
all the heteronormative binary bullshit behind all of that-

Though this body,

tending as it does to short, thick and hirsute
is mine, and I am at home here –

more or less.

But for a moment I allowed myself to be beautiful

and with lined eyes would gaze loving up
with lips cupped around labia and tongue slitting
up and around clitoral hood and swilling the oh so bitter
and so very sweet- plying cock and playing glans between lips
parsing the tense and tremble in hips under fingers and the sudden
head- long acceleration of he is coming, she is coming, ve is coming
they are
cum ing

and with dress hitched up around hips would slide my own cock
inside and ride or feel a blissful fist flowering open in my belly or simply
kiss other beings- close and comfortable and beautiful
enough to strut down the streets of the gay metropolis
rmanifesting desperate defiance
at the clone culture queers
and weekend tourists all alike
and at every knuckle of
drunk young men
swallowing terror
semen thick upon the tongue.

Today I will rise and put on my boy drag.

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