I am a poet, the editor of Melaleuca, and I enjoy writing scholarship and criticism about poetry.
Am I mere, poor excuse for a man,
having as a child, yearned to be a girl?
Must I seen the loss of parturition
far greater than the corresponding male
privilege? Who cares if I've a penis?
It doesn't make me man, as a result,
and I would rather be other than straight
and a man, and I am being straight here.
No amount of wishing will ever change
that fact that I'm no queen, that I am man.
But wishing in vain is wishing in vain,
and when the day is almost run, and when
the night is then pressing close against me,
heavily breathing, I need to accept.
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