I had a dream that you stood in
a mirror with a black evening
gown hanging from your small
strong shoulders.
A closet queen, a confused queer,
a man that has fooled his own mother,
putting brown eye shadow above
bedroom eyes that sing to the boys.
You see my curves as sexually
repulsive or aesthetically pleasing,
like the painting of Venus.
I don’t know what is worse.
No one holds me more dearly,
speaks to me as if my words
were more precious than gold.
I pray to change you, a waste
, like water held
in a leaky can.
a mirror with a black evening
gown hanging from your small
strong shoulders.
A closet queen, a confused queer,
a man that has fooled his own mother,
putting brown eye shadow above
bedroom eyes that sing to the boys.
You see my curves as sexually
repulsive or aesthetically pleasing,
like the painting of Venus.
I don’t know what is worse.
No one holds me more dearly,
speaks to me as if my words
were more precious than gold.
I pray to change you, a waste
, like water held
in a leaky can.
