A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
I love my son so much
I no longer call him my daughter.
He presses his bound breasts to me
when I hug him hello and goodbye.
He wants them gone.
I want him safe.
I show him how to draw back
the testosterone in the syringe.
Years as a diabetic
make me an expert.
I never wanted a son and now
I want him more than ever.
Water and ice are the same
thing, right? It’s just that
one is harder than the other.
Copyright 2018 Leslie Anne Mcilroy