No, I could not have been a poet yesterday
Because my grandfather was not at Dachau
And the other was not descended from an emancipated man
No, I am not a poet today
Because "she" does not apply to me
I do not struggle with all of the male paradigms
Nor was my gender role
Chosen for me by doctors in consultation with my parents
Maybe I can be a poet tomorrow
It might be possible...
If I claim to be one of the last surviving cowboys
Alienated by urban prairies, sleeping under fluorescent skies
Cussing up a storm about the chaffing qualities of chaps and toil
Versing how I was never meant to survive as a wrangler
Being ivory among ecru
I might even reminisce about the good 'ol days
When my grandmother would take me shopping
(if I sat still and behaved while she was getting her latest tattoo and waxing)
So I wouldn't have to wear last year's boots
While bringing in a herd of wild vegans.